Prelude of the new dawn
by Lost in New York
Summary: All she wanted to see was the new dawn. Blue met green, the depth of souls, shared years of friendship, tenderness, and love. Finally love. The final chapter: Dawn. Mac&Stella romance/angst.
1. A soft place to fall

Mac and Stella.

I don't own them.

Hope they aren't too OOC.. Sorry about the mistakes, all mine.

**Prelude of the new dawn**

_Allison Moorer: A soft place to fall_

_..You should know the reason why I called_

She knew her pattern. It started in the evenings, ending up to the morning hours as the sun rose to warm the city. She was on her way to feel the warmth of the sun, but there were long hours up to the new day. It was almost a midnight. She didn't care about the time for she knew it had never been relevant in her life. Things happened as they were meant to happen. It was good to have something permanent in her life. If it only was the same desperate pattern, she would take it. If it only allowed her to have the cut moments with him, she would take it, too.

---

Stella had met her date in that evening. Again her date hadn't been the successful one. They had ended the evening two hours ago. She hadn't pretended to be anyone else. She was done all the bullshit to pretend to be something she wasn't. Stella knew who she was, what she felt, what she missed and her date hadn't been anything she wanted. She had really tried to give him the opportunity to charm her, but no. Her date had failed. He wasn't enough. No one could be. She had thanked for the dinner they had enjoyed in a lovely and romantic restaurant. Her date had dropped her home. Being a gentleman, her date had asked if they could meet again. She had agreed, but she knew they wouldn't meet again. She had appreciated his gesture, but on the other hand she had hated it. He hadn't even tried to kiss her. Stella had deleted his number from her cell phone and gone inside her apartment, standing there in the darkness. She had headed back almost immediately. Sometimes it was too unbearable to be alone and in that evening she hated the feeling.

---

Stella sat in the booth, waiting. She had called him, asking if he would like to have a drink with her. He had agreed, like always. After ending the call, she didn't remember the name of the bar anymore. Stella wondered should she remember it. Truthfully she didn't care, not a damn bit. The only thing she cared at that moment was her drinks. She had drunk few glasses of red wine with her date and she had ordered beers in the bar. She wasn't a drinker, but sometimes she needed to have something that could smooth the edges of her heartache. She had noticed it was a small bar when she had entered in, unaware the reasons why she had picked out the bar. It was almost forgotten place which inhaled sadness and exhaled fatigue. The place breathed for her.

---

It was a warm summer night but the curly haired woman felt how the coolness had reached her tanned skin when she had risen up from the cab. Her strapless black dress disclosed her shoulders and she hoped she would have something warmer on her than the sheer dress, though she sat inside the bar. She was annoyed how the hemline of her dress felt too short. It wasn't too short, it was perfect on her. She didn't like it either how her new high heels made her feet ache. She had dropped her high heels on the floor. She enjoyed the soothing touch of air after she had stretched her long legs across the booth beneath the table. The soft seat under her heels felt good. She leaned back a bit and rested her head against the back of the booth, settling better in her seat. Her curls fell a bit backwards, tickling her shoulders. The booth was located so she could only see the back wall of the bar. It was the last booth in order, the dimmest booth she had found to herself.

---

The black dressed woman enjoyed her second beer. She waited to hear his familiar steps she would always recognize. The way her friend moved, the way he stepped. He had a certain determination in his steps. She always knew it was him who arrived at the crime scene towards her when she was looking intently for the possible evidence. She knew. She didn't have to turn around to see who had arrived. She sensed it in every way when he was close to her. She smiled but her vision blurred. She tried to hold back the tears, failing. She turned her head towards the dark gray tiled wall of the bar, trying to hide her sudden weak moment. She felt the moist on her scarred fingertips. She was so on the edge of falling apart. She blinked few times, cutting the tears. The lightning was dusky and she was pleased with it. She liked it that way. It smoothed her. It almost took the ache away. She wanted to be hidden. Stella closed her eyes, hearing the soft music. Sad lyrics about love, it was always about the love.

---

Stella sipped her beer. It was what she needed, to get drunk. She sensed how the drink warmed her, how her cheeks were slightly blushed. She had tried to avoid her doubts. He would come, of course he would. He always did. Probably sometimes when he couldn't, he was always there for her. The bar wasn't crowded when she had opened the door and stepped in. She had seen only two other customers who sat in their own booths and drank into their sorrows. The lachrymose music which was played on the jukebox filled the air, otherwise it was quiet. They didn't need company. The music was enough for them and the bartender gave them their privacy. He was an older man and his gaze had been gentle. But his looks told Stella he had seen the world and it hadn't been kind to him. He had only nodded when Stella had bought two beers at the same time. He had an anchor tattooed in his left forearm. There might have been a name in the tattoo, too. She hadn't been sure about it as she had taken notice of his tattoo when he had set the cold beers on the bar. He hadn't asked reasons. He hadn't wanted to hear excuses. They all had their stories.

---

Stella's lids were half closed. She heard how the door to the bar whined. A new customer had walked in. The sudden whiff of the summer night, which carried his familiar scent, reached her. She smiled. She waited. He would find her. She knew he would view the room before taking any steps. He was a crime scene investigator even when he wasn't on call. She was that, too. Stella heard him walking closer and he stopped. She knew he stand next to the booth. He had taken off his dark colored leather jacket. He offered it for her, for she seemed to shiver because of the coolness. The reason, why the woman shivered, had nothing to do with the sudden coolness she had felt on her skin as he had walked in. She moved her feet to the right, giving him room to sit down across from her. He never sat next to her. Stella dressed his jacket on and the lining of his jacket was still warm from his body.

"Hi." Her lips curved into a smile.

"I'm sorry it took this long." Mac's voice was firm and friendly. Not annoyed by the fact that it was really late. She hadn't noticed how long she had waited. Time wasn't relevant for her. Stella wanted to see the dawn. He wore a black shirt and dark blue jeans. She must have awakened him though he hadn't sounded tired. He never did. He didn't wear those clothes at work. She didn't want to hear why it had taken so long. She knew, but she hoped she wouldn't care. But she wanted to. He was her friend. She would always care about him.

Stella nodded, sipping her beer again.

"So, how bad was it?" Mac asked, tilting his head a bit. Earlier in that day, when they had met in the break room at work, she had mentioned about her date. Apparently, it hadn't gone well. Mac stared at the empty beer bottle on the table and wondered who had drunk it. He chuckled inside when he paid attention to her bare feet.

"Badly, I think." The curly haired woman answered, meeting Mac's gaze. "Like always." Stella tapped her fingers slowly against the wooden surface of the table. It felt like she played the song. She held the beer in her other hand. "I'm still waiting for my prince charming."

Mac sighed and stood up, heading to order his beer. While Mac waited for his drink, he observed Stella. She kept staring intently at her drink, lost in her own world again. She seemed to be absent so often lately.

---

The bartender served the man who was the company of the curly haired woman. She had waited for the dark haired man, obviously. The bartender had seen the soft smile on her face, when she had noticed her company was there, from the moment the man had walked in. The older man saw how she had slipped on his jacket. It made her look even smaller and her body was slender already. It made her look so vulnerable, like she would fall into pieces. He sure had seen it. The way she had sat alone. The hurt he had seen in her eyes when she had entered in the abandon place of lost souls. The way she had wiped away her falling tears. He had definitely seen it. Those observations gave memories for the older man. He hoped he could relive some moments of his life. He couldn't. He had missed his chances when he was younger. Now it was too late. He was old, too old. He hoped the dark haired man who had bought his first beer could be wiser than he had been. The bartender had seen quite a lot in his life and he knew how sometimes it was just too late to make things better. Maybe life would be fair at times. The bartender smiled somehow sadly, setting new beer bottles in the small fridge underneath the bar. He had time to serve his customers.

---

The comforting silence hovered between them when Mac came back to his seat. They didn't need words to fill the air. They communicate on so many levels. Sometimes it was frightening how well they knew each other. It was good when they worked together, but it was even better as they were friends. How amazing it would be if they could be more than friends, Stella had wondered sometimes. They had carried each other through the downfalls of their private lives and they shared so close friendship. Stella felt that Mac was her soul mate, the other side of her being. It hurt too much to think if Mac's soul mate was asleep in his home. In his bed. While he was there with her.

"You called me." He said finally, interrupting Stella's thoughts clearly. She tried to stuck few curls behind her ear, but they kept escaping on her long eyelashes. She managed to control her need to run away for she had blushed. She hoped he couldn't see what she had thought. It would only make things so complicated.

Mac knew her. He could tell from the sparkles in her eyes whether she was happy or were the sparkles in her eyes the warning signs of an explosion. At that moment Mac couldn't tell what there was to come. The makeup of her eyes was too mesmerizing. His eyes were locked on Stella's. The dim lightning of the bar bothered him. Her eyes had darkened, a hint of something unknown had flashed through her gaze. He wanted to see the sparkles in her eyes. He wanted to see the color of her eyes.

Stella's eyes narrowed slightly. She had drunk her second beer. The empty bottle hit the table too hard, but it was her soft voice which he heard only: "You should know the reason why I called."

And he shivered.

**TBC?**

**

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**I guess it was a bit different, but I hope you enjoyed reading it. Whether you liked or not, please let me know! Thanks for reading it!


	2. I will stay

A/N: Finally, here is the second chapter. Sorry about the mistakes, they are so mine. I don't own anything.

Chapter 2.

_Hurriganes: I will stay_

…_In the day we walk together, in the night I think of you._

The woman and her company spoke silently in the last booth of the bar. The bartender heard some words, how the tone in her voice had been gentle. The older man didn't want to listen in their conversation, though those two were the only ones who talked over all. It had caught his attention how hard the woman had set her empty beer bottle on the table. He didn't want to be rude and it wasn't his business to know if the woman was angry at the man. He seemed to be decent, though he knew that wasn't always enough. What would be enough, the anchor tattooed man thought as he stood up from his seat. He made his way to the jukebox. He loved songs, because sometimes silence was too much to bear and there had been enough of it. The best way to escape back to his memories, were the songs. Somehow they had become more than songs. They had been the guides through his life. He smiled and fell back to his memories, tears glimmering from his eyes.

---

_You should know the reason why I called._

There had been a moment of silence between the songs. It had been the moment Mac felt his skin was about to flame. Suddenly, there had been the wave of coldness which had reached him. The pressuring and unfamiliar moment. He thought over why the silence wasn't something they shared before, familiar and soothing, never unwanted. Usually they didn't need words, but as the evening went on and the sky darkened, there was so much he wanted to say. There was so much he wanted to hear.

Or had it been his lame attempt to see what had flashed through Stella's gaze, Mac considered. He couldn't form a word to describe what he had felt. There must be something, some rational reason why he shivered. He wondered what she had felt at the moment. Whatever it was, it was beyond this universe. She was so far away and he hadn't got the chance to catch it. She never let him and he had wanted to for so long. He couldn't remember when it had started. He would never let it end, not before he knew what was beneath the surface, what was beyond the universe. He suffered when she did. She suffered when he did. For him it was unbearable that she didn't let him to protect her.

_You should know the reason why I called._

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"You think I'm better company than your date, huh?" Mac smirked at Stella, finding words finally. She had been quiet for a while. She kept staring at the empty bottles on the table.

"You know you are the best I can get." Stella's word sank to him and he missed her gaze again.

---

Stella had jumped from her seat and made her way to the bar. Mac looked at her and shook his head astonished as he saw his co-worker standing without her high heels in the bar. His second-in-command ordered drinks without shoes. He viewed at the floor and worried if there would be broken glasses. She might cut herself accidentally. He didn't want that, for she had enough scars on her body. The floor seemed to be clean. He lifted his gaze back to Stella. He had never seen her without her high heels, at least not ordering drinks without shoes. She was so uncontrolled, so free. Not that he minded at all. Actually, he enjoyed seeing her like that. He chastised himself for staring Stella probably for too long. He didn't recall the last time he had seen her wearing the strapless dress. He hadn't, he would have remembered it. She said something to the bartender and he started to pour shots to her. _Shots._ Christ, she was on her way to be very drunk.

Stella had turned around and said in loud voice to him: "Mac, you want one?"

She grinned and held two shot glasses in her hands. Trying to think rationally, he was surprised what he said out loud: "I guess I can drink one, too." He hadn't drunk his beer, when Stella sat down to her seat.

"You ready?" Stella smirked at him when she set their drinks on the table. Before he had an opportunity to answer, Stella's shot glass was empty. Mac could only stare at her. Stella raised her eyebrow.

"Well, if you don't want—"Stella reached for his shot, but Mac was faster. He grabbed on Stella's wrist.

"Christ, Stella. What is up with you?" Mac said, he still had a hold on her hand. "Slow down a bit."

"I'm a big girl. I think I know my limits." Stella's eyes had darkened dangerously. "I sure do know my limits." She looked at him. With him she definitely knew her limits.

"I know, but slow down okay." Mac murmured, letting go of her hand. He took few sips, finishing his beer. He set the empty beer bottle on the table. They fell again in silence. Maybe unfamiliar, but it was what they had. Stella settled better in her seat, tapping her fingers against the wooden surface of the table. She stretched her legs under the table, accidentally her knee hitting his. She waited him to move his legs. He didn't. She didn't either. The sense what both felt, somehow similar as the silence they had fallen.

Never unwanted.

_You should know the reason why I called. _

---

It had been ten in the evening when Mac had answered to his cell phone. He had known who the caller was. He had smiled. He had lied. _Something important has appeared._ He never said what, maybe she knew after all. He certainly knew. They would need to talk, really.

Mace looked at the semi-drunk woman in the same booth. He wondered why she had picked up the place.

"Nice place." Mac said in a low voice before he enjoyed his shot. He tasted the strong alcohol. Vodka, there was definitely vodka in his shot. The burning liquid slid down his throat.

"You liked it?" Stella asked, smiling. She couldn't control her curls. They kept escaping regardless how many times she tried to tuck her hair behind her ears.

"Do you mean the bar or the shot?"

"Both, I guess. I have never been in this place before." Stella stated, taking her time to view the bar. "It's not so bad."

Mac shrugged his shoulders. "This place is abandon, no life. I wonder--"

"Well, then it's good enough for me." Stella said quietly as she turned to look Mac, a heart-breaking tone in her voice. "I'm sorry for calling you."

"You know I don't mind, Stella." Mac lowered his voice, saying it gently. "I don't mind at all."

"Maybe you don't, but what about—"Stella tried to gather enough strength what she was about to say. This was wrong, it was so wrong. He should be at home. He should be sleeping, or at least trying to get some sleep. Maybe she was right. Maybe they spent too much time together. Maybe—.

"You don't have to worry about it." Mac interrupted her, catching the hurt in her words.

_You should know the reason why I called. _

---

Mac heard her laugh, when she had headed to the bathroom. It lingered long in his mind. He had missed it.

"Nice girlfriend you have." The bartender said as Mac had walked to the bar. Mac was about correct his presumption. On some level he didn't want to say out loud she wasn't his. Maybe never would be.

"She's something." Mac muttered uneasy.

"Are you making friends, Mac?" Mac heard Stella's voice as she stood next him. She leaned against the bar, ordering another round of shots. Before he knew how to stop her, she had tossed a vodka-filled shot down her throat.

"What do you want?" She asked, tilting her head a bit. "Another beer? A shot maybe?"

Mac looked at Stella. The older man on the other side of the bar looked at both of the customers. Mac paid for her drinks and nodded to the bartender, hoping he would get the idea of not pouring drinks anymore.

"I think you don't want anything." Mac said, holding his hand on her lower back. Never unwanted. "You have drunk enough."

"Two shots." Stella said to the bartender. "For me."

He tightened his hold on her waist. "Stella—"

"What? Come on, Mac. Loosen up a bit." She slurred slightly as Mac pulled her into his arms. He smelled the alcohol in her breath.

"Not yet." Mac led her to the floor. "Dance with me."

She hadn't drunk that much. She laughed, almost not believing what he had said.

"Mac, we don't dance." They worked together. They were friends. They were.. They were something, but they didn't dance.

"Now we do, Stella."

"No, Mac." She tried to head back to the bar. He grabbed gently on her arm.

Mac raised his eyebrow, challenging her. He was about to win their silent battle. She sighed.

"You are pain in—."

Mac chuckled. "I'm much sober than you are. You might be pain on my toes."

Stella grinned at Mac, who held her in his arms. "You better watch your steps, because I'm the one who doesn't have shoes."

"Then you just have to trust me." Mac smiled warmly. She couldn't say anything. She agreed, nodding.

As Mac held her hand in his, he had an opportunity to look closer her fingertips. There were the scars. God only knew what she had gone through when she had fought for her life. She had never talked about it.

_You should know the reason why I called._

Her hand was warm in his as he pulled her closer to his body. Stella's eyes started to flutter shut. It was so damn comfortable to lean against him. Mac took a long, deep breath. The truth of what she might tell scared the hell out of him. Maybe it wasn't the best time for his question, but it was the best time to be there for her.

"Tell me what happened with Frankie." As Mac had said it, he could have sworn the effect his name still had on her. She pulled away. Her green eyes filled with tears.

"What?" She inhaled sharply. Her voice was barely a whisper.

They had never talked about it.

"You heard me, Stella." He brought her hand close to his chest. Her scars against his, separated only by his shirt. Before she knew how to react and understood what happened, before she realized how her barriers began to shatter, Mac had brought her hand too close to his lips. He kissed gently her fingertips. "Say anything. I'm here for you."

Walls began to fall and the floor had never been so uneven under her bare feet. She felt his strong arms surround her as her legs gave out underneath her.

Say anything.

TBC

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Again, this was a bit different and I hope they weren't too OOC. Thanks for reading this. I would really like to know what you think about it!:)


	3. I’ll take everything

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and alerts. They made me really happy. I almost forgot the angst... I hope you enjoy reading this chapter. I don't own anything. This song is killing me in a good way. It's not mine either. But mistakes, oh boy, they are so mine. Enough said, I think. Enjoy:)

Chapter 3.

_James Blunt: I'll take everything_

_Oh these feet carry me far. Oh my body. Oh so tired. Mouth is dry. Hardly speak.. _

_...Oh my body. Oh so tired_. Yes, the lyrics were so true, so damn true. The beginning of the new song still played in her head. It was all she remembered about the song. For them it had been the last song of the night.

The details of the night blurred with Mac. Had he really asked her to dance with him? Had he really kissed her fingertips? The unforgettable touch of his warm lips had been too much. He had been so close and she definitely remembered the warmth of his body. She remembered his words. His desperate and whispered words.

_Say anything. _

_Say anything. _

_Say anything._

Damn the way she had lost it, whatever she had looked for. It hadn't been a conversation about Frankie. The name had been said out loud. She hadn't thought about him in months. She had moved on. She dated. She tried to cope with the fact that she had shot her boyfriend. Well, her ex-boyfriend. And that was a lot to cope with.

---

Stella hadn't drunk that much, but the alcohol filled drinks she had tossed down her throat didn't help her condition at the moment. A moan escaped from her lips. A man's voice that called out was filled with concern and it was familiar. Stella tried to concentrate to the reality through the haze, through the headache. The pounding pain she felt in her head was stronger every time she tried to open her eyes. She must have moaned a bit louder this time, because there was a man talking to her again. She thought she would have been alone. When she heard his low voice again and again, she began slowly be fully awake. Fully alerted. There was someone with her. A man. And she knew his voice, just couldn't recognize it. She realized she lay somewhere, in a soft place. She was in her own bed. She felt the familiar and soft patterns of the blanket under her fingers, though she hadn't slept in her bed in months. The couch in the living room was enough comfortable for her and it allowed her to fall asleep. Not so many memories. Not so many nightmares.

But there she was, in her own bed and there was a man with her. In the same bed. Close to her, too close. She heard his voice and she sensed the warmth on his body. Her heart dropped below the breaking point, paralyzing her in every way it was possible. She couldn't have been so stupid.

Stella felt how the mattress moved underneath her. The man was beside her. Panic and regret ran down her spine. No. No. No. She couldn't-. No way, she couldn't-.

_I'm here for you_.

She tried to get up from the bed, but she hadn't enough strength. She pressed a hand on her temple and blinked hard. She tried to focus on the voice she heard. She blinked twice to see the man that bent over her.

"Hey, take it easy." A warm hand brushed few curls of her hair behind her ear.

"Please… Don't." Her words were barely audible in the darkness.

_Oh my body. Oh so tired._

She felt the numbness. It never abandoned her.

---

It had been easy to help her out of the bar, into the cab, into her apartment. Mac had worried about if his hold had been too strong on her waist. He had loosened his grip, but not entirely. He had easily assisted Stella onto her own bed. She must have lost weight, because she had felt so lightweight in his arms. Maybe she had looked a bit healthier before Frankie happened to her. Not that he looked at her body all the time. Stella had become thinner and he knew it, because her waist had felt so slim, so goddamn slim. Damn it why she hadn't taken care of herself. He could bet that she skipped meals, too. He couldn't remember the last time they had lunched together. But they shared the nights. Not this way ever before, because after a drink or two he had left her alone in some bar she had picked out.

Mac was happy for her that she had moved on. Really, he was. She dated, maybe too often if someone would have asked his opinion about it. But who was he to judge? His own life wasn't any better. It had become Stella's habit to call him after her dates ended. And when she didn't call him… Well, he just didn't want to think about it. Maybe he waited her calls too often.

_You should know the reason why I called. _

This night had been different than the other nights. This time there were no reasons for him to leave. Since the moment Mac had helped his friend onto the bed, he just couldn't leave her alone. He wanted to guard her sleep, wanted her to be safe. He could be there for her.

First time for everything.

Mac leaned against the window frame in the darkness of her bedroom. He could have rested next to Stella, but he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable. She was asleep and she had no idea that he was with her. He watched her while she slept. Not in a creepy way, because if she would have known what he was doing – protecting her - she would have totally kicked his ass. Mac chuckled, couldn't stop the image forming in his mind. Yes, she would have done it.

He sensed the vibration of his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans. He took up his cell phone. He flipped it open and looked at the caller ID. No reasons for him to leave, he thought and set his cell phone back into the pocket. Mac was forced into the reality, into the darkness when he heard her fragile voice. Had it been a moan? Had she really moaned? Mac stepped towards her bed. He felt how her body tensed as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, take it easy." His hand brushed few curls of her hair behind her ear.

"Please... Don't."

It shattered his heart. Her voice was supposed to be full on strength, full of determination, full of life. Not so weak and helpless.

"Look at me, Stella."

Again his voice filled her bedroom. _Stella_. He knew her. As hard as it was to open her eyes, she met his gaze in the darkness. Mac. She was with Mac.

"What-" Stella tried raise her head slowly. The pain in her head was killing her.

"It's me. It's only me."

"When-"

"You kind of passed out."

_I'm here for you._

---

She tried to pull herself up on her elbow, but Mac pushed her down gently. She gave in easily and she was unwilling to move, obviously. The wave of nausea swept over her.

"I need to-" She mumbled.

Yeah, what did she need?

"I think you should rest."

She was about to protest, but he was right. Actually, it was the best advice she had been given lately. She had no intention to move anywhere at the moment. Well, maybe onto the couch, but she could rest on her own bed. Just a moment or two. It couldn't kill her, it just couldn't. When she had a killer pain in her head and the wave of nausea swirling in her stomach, she would obey him.

"Oh, all right."

"Good." Mac said simply.

"Thank god it's you." Stella whispered finally her eyes glossy. This night had been different.

_You should know the reason why I called._

"I know." Mac murmured, holding her hand in his. It was their delicate physical contact. Like the silence. Never unwanted. "Remember anything?"

_I'm here for you._

Stella hesitated. She blushed slightly because of the memory. Of course she remembered. She hadn't drunk that much. She hadn't lost her memory completely, though some moments of the night blurred. She had danced with him. They never danced, they never were so close. It was wrong, so wrong when there was another woman in his life. She was just a friend, while other woman was so much more. It ached. Damn the way she had fallen into his arms. She cursed silently. She felt so stupid, but hey, she hadn't slept with him. She hadn't fallen into her own oblivion. She thanked the darkness because it hid her blushed cheeks.

"Yeah." She said, looking at the ceiling. It wasn't so easy to meet Mac's gaze. After the night with him in the bar, it was hard. After the proximity with him... Well, it had changed everything. Mac waited. And waited. She continued.

"You asked about Frankie." She was able to name her demon and that was a progress itself.

Mac lifted his gaze from their linked hands. He wasn't sure if she was ready to talk about it.

"If you don't-" He started, a trepidation piercing him.

Stella pulled her hand away and lost the warm contact with him. Suddenly she felt cold. She met his gaze and oh God it was deep. She knew her boundaries. Lately, they had begun to fall.

So wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

The fragments of her limits pulsated in her body with the same velocity as the pain at the both side of her forehead.

Killing her. Slowly. She hoped it was the combination of her headache and the nausea.

It wasn't only the well known hangover that had reached her. She was angry, because she didn't want to waste any her time thinking about the man she had shot. She was frustrated, because she didn't understand why Mac wanted to talk about him.

"God, Mac! I have moved on. I shot him, okay! There is nothing I can do to change that. Why don't you do a favor and read the goddamn police report because I'm so done talking about him." She snapped.

He had read the report and heard what Flack had told him. That should have been enough, but Mac was afraid of that the ghost of the dead man still hovered in the shadows of her bedroom.

"Yeah, I know." He said quietly, giving in. "I just thought--" Mac saw the look on her face and she was done with him, too.

"Well, don't." She gritted.

"Sleep now." Mac got up as Stella turned away from him. She pulled the blanket up to her chin, vanishing beneath the warm comforter.

Yet, Stella didn't know why she shivered.

---

Mac walked to the door and turned to look at his friend. He could see and hear how she breathed and tried to stifle her sobbing. Somehow she controlled herself, but her slender body trembled. There wasn't enough darkness to hide it. Mac closed the door of her bedroom. He walked through the living room. He viewed the room slowly and his gaze stopped at the same time as his heart skipped a beat. He saw her temporary bed. For how long she had slept on the couch, Mac could only guess. He shivered, though the heat of the warm summer night suffused in her apartment. He slipped on his jacket, which had warmed Stella. He could have sworn it carried the light smell of her perfume. Like she wouldn't be in his mind otherwise. Like he wouldn't be thinking about his friend. His soul mate.

His everything.

He walked out of her apartment, closing the door silently. The shadow of his figure reflected on the walls of the hallway. His solitary steps echoed as his hollow heart beat its steady rhythm. The hole in his chest grew bigger and bigger with every step he took farther from Stella.

He stepped out of Stella's apartment building. He sighed and took up his cell phone. One missed call. He dialed the number as the gleams of the sun began to light the city. It had been so dark in her apartment. The faint light through the blinds had not given comfort. He stood in front of the building and waited. And waited.

It took a moment when he heard her voice. This night had definitely been different.

He inhaled the air of the new dawn. He breathed everything.

His voice was the sound of breaking a heart.

---

It was almost morning already. There weren't any costumers sitting and drinking in the bar. Had it been an interesting night, the owner of the bar recalled. He sat on a bar chair behind the bar and was ready to read the newspaper. The aroma of the hot and dark liquid filled the air, a cup of coffee ready for him. Before he tasted the liquid, it was time to close the bar. The bartender stood up and stepped to the door. He hadn't time to lock it, when there was a man in front of him. The mild breath of air greeted the owner of the bar. The other man almost stumbled inside the bar. Clearly, he was lost in his thoughts or then he had tossed way too many drinks.

"Are you closing?" He asked his voice low. And sober. No, he wasn't drunk.

The older man looked at him. He was the man who had helped the curly haired woman. Mac was his name. She had said it so many times, like his name had been a plea.

"No, not yet." The bartender stepped backwards.

"Then, give something. Something strong." Mac mumbled and took a seat in the dimmest booth of the bar. It was the same booth in where he had sat with her. With Stella.

The woman he-. No. No. No.

_You should know the reason why I called. _

_I'm here for you._

"Where's your girlfriend?" The older man asked when he set the glass of scotch on the wooden table. Mac looked at the bartender, confused.

"She's not-" Mac tried to say but couldn't form any sensible sentences. "She's not-"

_She's not mine_. That was more than sensible sentence. His heart was about to burst in his chest. What he had realized after the phone call, after breaking a heart, was that his heart had belonged to someone else. To Stella.

The bartender nodded, noticing how hard he struggled. Something had changed. He had realized something. What that something was, it wasn't his business to know. The older man turned around and walked to his own seat. The first two sips of his coffee tasted so good, finally. The steam of his coffee filtered through his senses. His oblivion.

Mac stared at his drink. He was so screwed. How hadn't he figured it out earlier? He placed the rim against his lips, ready to taste some kind of oblivion. He was ready to drown into numbness.

He was in love with her.

Mac set his glass of scotch down onto the table.

He was in love with Stella.

The amber liquid would never be his oblivion.

The older man managed to view the front page of the newspaper only once when he was interrupted by the only customer. The bartender lifted his gaze. Apparently, Mac needed something. He set his glass of scotch on the bar and slid his drink towards the other man. He hadn't drunk it.

"Ice cubes, right."

Mac shook his head and interrupted his doing by saying: "I really need a cup of coffee."

The bartender smirked, almost laughed. The dark haired man was the first customer who wanted to drink coffee in his bar.

Surely, he could pour a cup of coffee.

First time for everything.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading this. I know, I wrote this a bit differently... I hope it was okay. Please, stick with this, okay?:) Any kind of comments and reviews would be nice to have!


	4. Turpentine

A/N: What can I say? Real life is such a bitch. This is really dark chapter. You have been warned. Thank you so much for the reviews and the alerts!:) I don't own anything, but the mistakes are all mine. Oh, I own the bartender in this story;D

_Chapter 4._

_Brandi Charlile: Turpentine_

_...It's six AM and I'm all messed up_

"Hey Stella." Mac greeted with a smile as his co-worker stepped inside his office. The head of the crime lab stood up from his chair. "I wondered where you have been."

Stella glanced at Mac and sadness shadowed her face. It made him concerned. Her green eyes were sorrowful, as if something had happened. Something bad. He wondered if he could somehow approach her, but he couldn't take any steps. Just a heavy wave of breathless air hovered between them.

"Hey." Stella nodded.

"Are you okay?" Mac asked. She looked a bit pale, too. Maybe she had been on a case way too intensively. Maybe something had happened in the field that he wasn't aware of. On the other hand, the other crime scene investigators would have told him if something had happened to her. They cared for each other. He cared for her too much. She was his friend. She was his co-worker. He was in love with her. With Stella. With his… Well everything.

"I finished my paperwork, so I think I'm going to leave home now." She set the file on his desk and turned to walk out of his office.

"You want to share a cab?" Mac asked, though he had too many unfinished paperwork on his desk.

Stella looked at the large pile of paperwork. She avoided looking at him and mumbled. "I don't have time to wait."

She walked away.

"Stella, wait!" Mac called out, though he didn't know exactly what he would have said to her if she would have stopped to listen to him. She didn't.

"Troubles in paradise?" One of his employees, Adam Ross, joked as he walked inside Mac's office. The young lab tech had seen the look on Stella's face and Mac didn't look so happy either. Mac's expression made him swallow his next incisive sentence.

"Don't you have work to do?" Mac asked, impatiently. He tapped his foot on the floor.

"Please, don't fire me." Adam muttered uneasy and handed his paperwork to Mac. The head of the crime lab leafed through the file, his thoughts on Stella. It ached when she acted like nothing had happened after that night. Nothing had, but then everything had changed. He was aware of it. Maybe she was too. She had avoided him, even at work. She hadn't called him. It wasn't her normal behavior at all. Something had definitely changed.

---

There she was again, stepping into the abandon place. She was alone. She had dressed casually, and she looked good in her dark colored jeans and the black colored tank top. It's was a simple top with a scoop neck and high back. The straps were thick. She had sat on a bar chair and had a small talk with the bartender as she had enjoyed her first drink. She had talked about her job, her co-workers, but she hadn't said a word about him. About Mac. She had smiled somehow sadly, almost like she had given up. After a while she had picked out her favorite booth. The dimmest one.

Stella jumped a bit as a drink appeared in front of her on the table. She lifted her gaze and saw a man who held another drink in his hand.

"You looked like you need this." He sat down across her and slid her drink into her hands. His smile was bold. "It's on me."

Stella offered her best smile: "Thanks." She tipped her drink and it tasted strong. Almost too strong, but it was good. Stella looked at the man, observing him. His dark brown hair looked almost black and he was tall and well-built. His eyes weren't blue, but he was attractive enough.

"Are you alone?" He asked, looking at her intently.

"Definitely."

"It's a Friday night. Are you going to spend your time here?" He lighted a cigarette and sipped his drink.

"I have another place in mind." Stella grinned.

"Really?" His smile was smug.

"Yeah, I do."

---

Stella had felt his kisses on her neck. His hands had roamed her body as she had opened the door of her apartment. She had definitely felt something with him, but he hadn't been enough. He never could have been, but she got what she had wanted.

She opened her eyes slowly as the man stroked her lower back, smirking. "That was amazing." He leaned to kiss her and chills ran down her spine. She pushed herself off him. "You know where the door is. I'm done."

He stood up from the couch, vanishing into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. Stella grabbed her bra and tank top up off the floor and found her jeans next to her panties. She put on her abandoned clothes.

He had pulled up his pants and he leaned against the door frame of the bathroom. "No round two?"

She didn't want to spend any time with him. She felt how numbness took its hold on her body.

"Get out." Stella said coldly and walked toward the door.

"You sure you don't want a round two?" He followed her.

She was so done with him. "It wasn't so amazing."

"What a bitch." She heard him saying, but his words didn't hurt her. She opened to the door and waited for him to walk out off her apartment, out of her life. She turned her head towards the hallway as she heard _his_ steps coming closer.

No. No. No.

Shame took its hold in her heart. The man appeared into sight. He glared at her in the hallway. His expression was dark. She stood still, her appearance very mussed.

"Mac." His name was a weak plea.

---

"I should have guessed. The boyfriend." The other man sneered as he stepped into the hallway. "She's good, but I bet you know that already."

He hadn't time to react when Mac slammed him against the wall: "You never touch her again." Mac pushed the man hard enough and he stumbled towards the stairs, never looking back.

Mac turned around and walked inside Stella's apartment. He looked at her. He wasn't angry, not at all. He was sad for her.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"What are you doing here?" She waited for a moment and held the door open, but then she closed it. Apparently, he wasn't leaving soon.

"I tried to call you."

"I shut my cell phone off." She said simply. "It's my day off, Mac. I wanted to relax a bit."

"Well, did you with that jerk?" He snorted.

Stella was silent. Her hands trembled. She tried to gather enough courage to ask him to leave.

"Is it him you want? Is he enough for you?" Mac's voice was low. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Did you even know his name?"

"It isn't your business." Stella made her way to the kitchen and opened the bottle of vodka which was left on the kitchen counter. She started to pour a shot of vodka for herself. Mac followed her and grabbed the bottle, too. The bottle slipped from their hands and it fell apart into shards on the floor, the liquid spreading about the pieces of broken glass.

"Shit! What is wrong with you?" Stella's eyes sparkled dangerously. She tried to crouch on the floor, for she wanted to lean the mess. She couldn't when Mac grabbed tightly on her arms and pushed her against the desk in the kitchen. The turmoil in his eyes told her everything.

"What's wrong with me?" Mac narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing to yourself, Stella? What is this?"

She lowered her gaze, the shame and guilt taking turns.

"You don't have the right to judge me." She whispered. "Leave me alone."

He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her, holding her. "That is not an option." He rested his forehead against hers. "I can't leave and I don't want to."

"I'm not worth it." Her words echoed in Mac's head. He smelled the alcohol in her breath.

Mac pulled away a bit. Her eyes had filled with tears.

"You have to stop this." He wiped away the tears on her cheeks.

"I think I can take care of myself." Stella forced a stoic look on her face. She turned her head away from his touch. She didn't deserve it. It was too gentle. She wasn't worth it.

"What if you pick someone who wants to hurt you?" He was concerned. There would always be another Frankie. "What if he gets rough on you? What if-"

"Stop it, okay? I know exactly what I'm doing. I know what I want." She forced her body to put distance between them. She avoided the shards as she stepped into the living room. She had enough scars on her body.

"What do you want?" Mac asked after he had cleaned the mess on the kitchen floor. The building turmoil burned inside him. "Sex? Is that what you want?"

She turned to look at him, standing in the middle of the living room. "What are you saying, Mac? That I'm a slut for having sex?"

He smiled sadly and he knew how she tried to provoke him. "I'm not judging you. I care for you, Stell."

_And I love you._

"I need a shower." Stella said, trying to ignore his words.

"I'll wait, and then we talk." Mac took off his jacket and sat on an armchair beside the couch.

"Leave, Mac." She said before she walked into the bathroom.

He didn't leave. This time he wouldn't leave.

He waited. And waited.

---

"You didn't hear what I said?" After the long fifteen minutes, Stella walked out off the bathroom and vanished into her bedroom right away. She didn't bother to listen to his answer. She didn't even look at him. It took few minutes for her to appear again into sight. She toweled her hair and she had dressed on her pale blue colored nightdress. She tossed the towel into the bathroom and suddenly wished she had more clothes on though it had been a warm summer night.

"I heard you." Mac answered and stood up from the chair and walked in front of Stella.

"What time is it?" She inquired, because she had no idea.

"Almost six a.m." Mac looked at the watch on his wrist. "You should go to sleep."

"Good idea." She murmured and turned to walk to her bedroom but he grabbed gently on her arm and pulled her closer. She shivered and took in an audible breath.

"You are cold."

She wasn't.

"Yeah, maybe a bit."

She sensed the warmth of Mac's body as he closed the slight distance stepping further into her space. He shouldn't have been so close, crossing everything they had. This was the second time he crossed the line. First time had been when he had asked her to dance with him.

And they never danced.

He had held her, finding the same solitude rhythm in the music they had heard in the bar. The same solitude rhythm they had in their lives.

He forgot what he was about to say. Maybe an apology for his action but there weren't any words coming out off his mouth. The words died on his lips. He focused on something else. He was so close to her, so close that he was able to feel her breath on his face. He was able to feel everything.

"Stell…"

"Will you stay?" She asked quietly. "I don't want to be alone. If you can't--"

"I will stay. Come, let's get some sleep." He smiled.

---

Stella settled on the bed and waited for Mac to follow. He would stay.

_I will stay. _

There were too many things crashing inside of Mac as he looked at the woman on the bed. She looked so stunning and beautiful. She deserved so much more after Frankie, after the jerk. Mac had wanted to break his neck because of the things he said about her. Shit, how many jerks there would be, thinking about how good she had been? He needed to breathe deeply. He needed to calm down. He kicked off his shoes and took off his shirt and jeans, leaving on his boxer shorts. He climbed into the other side of the bed, leaving some distance between them. He settled under the sheet. He turned his head to look at her: "Try to get some sleep, Stell."

"I'm not tired." Stella snuggled closer to him suddenly. Her eyes were too dark, mesmerizing as their gazes met.

"This is what you want, isn't? That's why you came here." Her lips touched his lips and she straddled his lap after she had pulled away the sheet on his lower body.

There were too many things crashing inside of her.

"You asked me what I want. This is what I want." Stella whispered against his jaw line as he tried to control himself desperately.

She was too much, too much.

_This is what you want, isn't?_

His temptations were tested. There in the darkness, where everything had changed and all limits had vanished. It was only two of them in the darkness. The proximity never unwanted.

"I wanted him to be you." It was her salvation, her confession. It was his permission.

Mac's fingers tangled into her damp hair, pulling her closer and sensing the heat of her body, sensing every curve of her body. This was the woman he loved. She was his everything. On top of him. Kissing him.

Her limits shattered completely.

His hands had found the hem of her nightdress, desperately looking for her bare skin.

_This is what I want. _

Had she really said those words?

_I wanted him to be you._

This couldn't be true. He wouldn't be another jerk.

"Stella, wait." His voice filled the room between the kisses. He had his hands on her waist. She didn't wait. She kept kissing him, nipping and biting his lips gently. It made him groan. Her hands caressed his bare chest and started to slide down the waistband of his boxer shorts.

"This is what I want." She moaned. Yes, he was enough. He would be enough.

He choked a breath. What the hell they are doing? It couldn't happen this way, she was so messed up.

"This is not what I want."

---

No. No. No.

His words froze her. She couldn't move. Her heart skipped a beat. Another one. She couldn't breathe. This was it, the death. His rejection would kill her. Slowly and painfully, but it would kill her.

Her lips started to tremble and the tears of shame filled her eyes.

"Get the hell out of my life, Mac." Stella whispered finally. Mac sat up, the woman on his lap; both well aware how far they had let the situation go.

"I didn't mean it that way but this isn't the right time. We can't--"He almost panted. "You're drunk and I can taste--"

He didn't want to say it.

"What?" She needed to ask. She exhaled. She felt his kisses, oh God she sensed him, too.

"You kissed him." He stated quietly against her bare shoulder. "You don't smoke."

Stella laughed bitter sweetly and saw his confused look.

"You notice everything, don't you?" She wasn't in his arms anymore. "Care to share this with your _girlfriend_?" There was a mock in her voice and. "Go home, Mac. I bet she is waiting for you." She buried herself beneath the sheet, lacking of the warmth of his body. Stella settled her head against the pillow and shut her eyes.

_Leave. Please, leave._

Mac didn't leave. He buried himself beneath the same sheet, too. He settled against Stella. He enfolded his arm across her waist, pulling her against him. She let him held her surprisingly. Suddenly she was tired and exhausted and let herself lean against him. She would take everything, absorbing the warmth of his body.

It was her soft place to fall.

The darkness they both have fallen was different.

"There isn't any other." Mac whispered in her ear, the words came out off his mouth finally. He let his words sink in. Stella rolled onto her side to be face to face with Mac.

A hint of hope with the gleams of the sun suffused through the blinds.

TBC

* * *

Please, leave your comments or reviews so I know what you thought about this. Real life made me write this. You can blame it. Thanks for reading this!:)


	5. Let me down easy

A/N:Thank you for the reviews and alerts! They totally made me happy, really:) I don't own anything, though the bartender is mine. Sorry about the mistakes, totally mine:(

Chapter 5.

_Chris Isaak: Let me down easy_

_You don't know how hard I've fallen for you…_

Stella blinked.

She slowly opened her eyes. She lay on her back beneath the blanket. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept so well. The room was suffused with the sunlight, it was an afternoon already. She almost felt the warmth of the sun on her face. She thought about spending her day off in the park. She wasn't on call, so no one would bother her. She smiled and stretched her slender body under the blanket. Her feet tangled with the sheet. She turned her head a bit to see the other side of the bed.

It was empty.

Hmm.

She rolled on her side and pressed her face against the other pillow next to her own. She inhaled deeply and could have sworn the pillow carried the scent of _his_ after shave lotion.

She inhaled again.

_Mac._

She sighed and recalled the thing Mac had said in her dream.

_There isn't any other. _

What a dream it had been.

Stella closed her eyes. She felt the kisses, his hands on her skin...

Like that would happen in real life. Stella fell in her dreams again.

It was the noises from the kitchen which startled her. She thought for a second where her gun was, but the aroma of fresh poured coffee caught her attention. The familiar smell wafted into her bedroom.

What…?

She slipped out off the bed and stepped toward the kitchen. Her heart beat just a bit faster than usually. Mac stood next to the kitchen counter. The man enjoyed his first cup of coffee. He turned around as he sensed Stella's presence and placed his mug on the counter. Stella couldn't move as she met Mac's gaze. The images flashed in her mind, the reality hitting her hard.

_This is what I want_.

It hadn't been a dream.

She couldn't believe it.

Mac. In her kitchen. After the night, after the kisses.

Mac approached her.

_This is what I want. _

What the hell had she thought?

"Hey." Mac smiled and closed the distance between them. "You slept well?"

He knew the answer already. She had fallen asleep in his arms, her breath warmth against his skin. The sense he would always remember.

Stella mumbled something.

---

Mac wanted to hear Stella's voice. He wanted to hear she was okay. He kissed the woman's forehead and moved his hand to grab her chin gently, tilting her head up to face him.

"Are you okay?"

She met his gaze again and studied his expression.

_This is what you want, isn't? That's why you came here._

"I'm sorry." She whispered. "About the last night---"

She had done everything she had been afraid of. She had let her limits shatter.

"I'm not sorry at all." Mac pulled her closer.

_There isn't any other._

"Mac, I shouldn't have acted liked that. I was out of line---" She felt how tears began to form in her eyes and she lowered her gaze.

She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. Her words were hard. "It won't happen again. "

"Stella---"

"You should go, Mac." She pulled away from his touch. "I hope what happened last night won't affect our job. I mean, you're my... And I'm yours… "

"Nothing happened." Mac said. "We didn't do anything wrong. We just kissed."

Stella turned around rapidly and narrowed her eyes. "Wrong, Mac? Are you serious?"

"Yes." He always told the truth.

"I can't believe you!" She hissed.

"What? Stella, look... Maybe you should go back to sleep. You're still tired and we can talk later."

"There's no later, Mac. This isn't happening. It isn't like we are dating, Mac. I acted so stupidly and you were stupid enough to play along."

The words hit hard against his face. She couldn't be serious.

_Please, don't say it. Don't say it. Please._

"There isn't any other." Mac repeated his words. His heart was about to burst. He reached for Stella.

Dear God she let him.

Of course she did.

Mac stepped further into her space. "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do." Stella swallowed the lump in her throat. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Always."

"Why don't you trust me with this?" He kissed her gently, letting his lips linger on her lips. "I would never hurt you." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Never."

Yes, this would kill her. His tenderness. His love.

"I need you to go." It was her last plea. Stella forced her body to put distance between them. She saw Mac's hurt look, before she stepped back into her bedroom.

"Please go."

---

"Need to work out more often, Stella?" Don Flack, the detective of NYPD, opened the door, smirking. Stella almost panted for she had taken the stairs up to Don's apartment. Stella glared at him and tried to explain: "It so damn hot out there."

Don leaned against the door frame, wearing his loose fitted, blue colored jeans and his black colored muscle shirt. An amused smile on his lips.

He was one of the finest.

Definitely.

She stepped beside the smirking man. She felt how sweat ran down her back, though she wore a simple halter top and her faded jeans. She had her hair tied up.

Don smirked: "I was just kidding."

_Hilarious._

Stella didn't even try to laugh. It wasn't just the hot weather and lack of exercise, which made her feel fatigue because most of the time she enjoyed the warm summer days. And she had gone to gym. Sometimes.

What worn her out the most, was her heartache.

Somehow she had pulled herself together after Mac had left. The weeks had gone in haze and Stella had managed to avoid Mac at work. Though the moments they had spent together in the briefings with their colleagues had been so charged, she had been afraid of an electric shock.

"You wanna beer?" Don asked as he made his way into the small kitchen of his studio.

"Sure, why not." Stella shrugged and took a seat on the sofa. Don took two bottles of beer out of his fridge and came to sit next her. He handed the other beer bottle to Stella.

"Thanks." She said after a long sip of her beer. It tasted so good. The heat of the day kept pressuring the city, but it was cool in Don's apartment because of the air condition. She shuddered because of the sudden change of temperature. It was a refreshing change, and she wouldn't complain. She leaned against the back of the sofa and crossed her legs. Don turned to look at the female detective and studied her outlook, letting his gaze travel down to her feet. He saw her flip-flops. There was just something which made the woman look so vulnerable and fragile.

Then he remembered.

Frankie happened to Stella.

He had almost broken her.

He took a sip of his beer.

"So, what's up?" Don asked as a moment of silence passed.

Don had been surprised when Stella had visited him at the precinct earlier that day. She had needed to talk with him in private. They had agreed to meet after work.

He was glad to spend more time with Stella, because he hadn't seen her lately. She had always something else going on. She claimed she didn't have time or she had other plans when she was asked to meet the colleagues in a bar. Of course they met at work, but it wasn't the same. She had been distracted and lost. Maybe she still struggled with the aftermath of shooting Frankie, though she had moved on in a way. But the rumors Don had heard about Stella and Mac, made him concerned. They weren't in the same sync like they had been years. Something had changed and it had a painful effect on Stella.

She clearly missed her best friend.

Hmm?" Stella mumbled and turned to look at Don.

"Are you okay?" Don asked.

"Yeah." Stella sighed and leaned forward, placing her beer onto the living room table. Stella stared at the TV screen. It took a moment when she realized what she saw. She burst to laugh and turned her head to see Don's face.

"I didn't know you are a fan of soap opera." Stella teased.

Don blushed and stammered: "I- I- was just about the change the channel when you showed up. I didn't watch it!"

He was so busted.

"Yeah, you keep telling that." She couldn't stop laughing.

"Fine." He tried to look upset, failing. She knew him so well.

"Oh come on, Don." She tapped on his shoulder. "It's nothing wrong with it. Men do watch these shows. Your job is really stressful, it's a good way to relax."

_A better way than drinking and messing things up with your best friend._

"But I swear to God, I didn't watch it." He tried to reassure her.

Stella smiled at him. She had missed the easy going chat with her friend. And Don was a good friend.

They fell in the silence again. Don sipped his beer and glanced at Stella. The woman played the hem of her top nervously.

"So, what is really bothering you?" He asked.

"I need your help." Stella said simply.

Don became concerned. "Okay, tell me."

---

The bartender opened the main door of his bar and walked in. He stood still for a moment, letting his thoughts wander. This was his life now. It had been so for long time, but there was a sharp pinch of a doubt inside him whether he had done the right decision or not.

It wasn't long after the opening when Mac entered the bar.

"What brings you here?" The bartender asked.

"Tough day, I guess." Mac shrugged and sat on the bar chair. The bartender had enough time to see a glimmer of metal of his police badge. The dark haired man carried a gun, too.

"I didn't know you are a cop." The bartender stated with a certain respect in his voice.

"Not exactly a cop, I'm the head of the crime lab." Mac answered and introduced himself:" Mac Taylor." His badge and his service gun in the holster rested on the waistband of his trousers.

"John Hamilton." The man said when he shook his hand with Mac.

"Well, Mr. Hamilton, how about a cup of coffee?" Mac asked.

"You don't want anything stronger?"

"I'm on call." Mac explained. "Just a cup of coffee, please."

Mac sat in the booth which had become his favorite one. He browsed through the paper of the day. He heard how the main door whined as another customer stepped in. Mac didn't pay any attention to the black suited man who had a military hair cut. He talked with the owner of the bar quietly, but when the conversation became louder, Mac lifted his gaze from the newspaper and turned to observe the two men.

"You get the hell out of here." Mr. Hamilton gritted. "I don't work with you anymore."

The other man had opened a file on the bar.

"You should. We are trying to protect the woman's life---" The younger man tried to say.

"I don't care! Get out!"

Mac moved closer to the men. He flashed his badge and asked: "Is there a problem here?" His right hand rested on his gun, ready to pull it from the holster. They both looked at Mac. The black suited man became alerted. He closed the file before Mac had time to look at the pictures in it.

"You think about it." The black suited man said firmly and stepped out of the bar. The door slammed loudly closed. Mac stood a bit astonished as the older man tried to control his anger.

"Are you all right?"

Mr. Hamilton closed his eyes and breathed deeply: "I'm fine. Bad memories, bad memories."

---

"Where is your sofa?" Don asked puzzled as they entered Stella's apartment.

"I got rid of it." She said simply.

"How?"

"You don't want to know."

"So the white colored and very large couch in the hallway is yours?"

"The fabric color is _cream_, Don."

Don rolled his eyes, but was caught by Stella. "I saw that."

"I don't see the difference." The dark haired man muttered.

"It's the small details what matter." Stella grinned.

"You weren't afraid that someone would steal your new sofa?"

"Don, my friendly neighbor promised to look out for it." There was a sweet tone in her voice as Stella spoke about her neighbor.

"The older lady? How old is she?"

"She's old enough to be your grandma, okay, but she's a tough old lady."

"I'll bet."

"She can kick your ass anytime." Stella grinned and continued: "I guess you know why you are here."

"I figured it out."

"It's good you work as a detective."

"Bonasera, shut up." Don laughed.

---

"One, two, three." Stella counted before they lifted the couch off the floor in the hallway.

Damn, it was heavy.

"Woman, use your strength." Don commanded.

"Shut up." Stella gritted. They started to move slowly from the hallway inside her apartment.

They stopped once.

Twice.

"Yeah, I love you too."

She narrowed her eyes. "I swear to God, if you don't---" She had to put all her effort to carry her heavy couch. Don hadn't any problems.

Finally, they placed the sofa on the floor. Don hopped on the sofa. "What was wrong with your old sofa?"

Stella avoided looking into Don's blue eyes.

"I just wanted to have something new." Stella sat down on her _cream_ colored sofa as Don moved his legs giving her a seat. The sofa was soft as she leaned against the backside of it. It was 4-seater sofa, very large one, but suited well in her apartment.

Stella looked at Don with a weak smile. "Thanks."

Don got up from the sofa and grabbed on Stella's hand, pulling her into a friendly hug. "I'm glad you asked me, because with Mac.. Damn woman, you would be still moving the couch."

Stella chuckled: "He's a marine and he can kick your ass anytime, my friend."

"Oh really?" Don smirked.

"Yeah, really."

"Why are defending him, because I have heard things..." Don dropped his unexpected words, studying the expression on Stella's face. "About you and Mac."

_About you and Mac. Here we go._

"It's really nothing."

Well, that was convincing.

"Is it normal that two people who are friends don't care for each other anymore? Is it normal that _those friends_ don't talk to each other?" Don pushed. "You can't even work together, Stella! You called that nothing. Huh."

Damn him for being a detective.

And damn the one who had told him.

Damn the gossip machine Danny Messer.

"It's complicated." She blurted, frustrated. Like she hadn't thought about Mac, the kisses, his words, her words. "It's really complicated, Don."

"Look, Stella. I know you. I know Mac. You have been through so much, but what the hell happened to you? You were supposed to be---?"

"Nothing!" She almost shouted. "It was nothing alright. It shouldn't have happened. Not when Mac is technically my boss---"

The words just slipped out of her mouth.

No. No. No.

Did she just say it out loud?

She had said it out loud.

She felt how her cheeks blushed slightly.

The silence that had fallen after her words made her legs weak. She needed to sit down. She couldn't look at Don who still was quiet.

Finally Don spoke: "So, when this 'nothing' happened?"

You. Don't. Want. To. Know. Stella thought.

Don continued, a smug look on his face: "You and Mac. I would have never guessed."

Stella looked at the smirking man. She was so done with him.

Definitely. So done.

"A soap opera, Don. Really?"

The smirk on Don's face died and was replaced with a heavy blush.

TBC

* * *

Thanks for reading this chapter. Let me know what you think about it. I hope Don wasn't OOC:D


	6. Tide part 1

A/N: For those who had reviewed, thank you. I own nothing. Sorry about the language. You should listen to the song. It's really good, but not mine. This is angst and dark. Don't read it, if it upset you anyway. My story, my rules. Mistakes are all mine.

Chapter 6.

Part 1.

_Belle who: Tide_

_You can feel it on your skin. You can feel it on your skin. You feel it on your skin. The water is coming, we must stop running._

Stella's eyes hurt. Staring at the screen of her laptop for hours made her eyes water. The evening had darkened. It had been a beautiful sunset, though the sun had already disappeared beyond the horizon when she had come back to the lab. She hadn't had time to enjoy the view. She preferred the rising sun, the dear moment when the new day held on something unknown as the first gleams of the sun warmed the city. In the mornings she was grateful, her solitary moments. She wanted to be unbroken. Stella glanced at the screen and read her e-mail box. No new messages. Like that was a surprise, the woman thought as she turned off the laptop. She had drunk all her coffee and the need of caffeine ran in her veins. She had been awake since the sun had risen. She never complained. It was her job what counted the most. It kept her mind busy even though her body lacked of rest. She knew how much it took to get result and she didn't give up easily. It was her job what kept her thoughts away from Mac. It was hard to breathe near him, to sense his warmth, to hear his voice. It was hard to live without her best friend. She didn't have words to tell him how she was sorry. She shouldn't have said those words, because she hadn't meant them. Not when it came to Mac, and of course it was all about him.

_I need you to go._

_Please go._

She knew what her words had caused, what her actions had done.

_This is what I want. _

Stella leaned against the back of her chair and let her fingers slid through her curly hair. She closed her eyes and remembered it all. Damn it, she sensed it all. Of course Mac was all she wanted. How the hell had she messed up her life? How the hell had she lost her best friend?

---

She didn't know what time it was exactly. The unfinished files on her desk kept her busy. Few more to go and she would be ready. She was about the stood up from her chair for she needed caffeine. She couldn't resist anymore. She was hungry, too. She had skipped meals but the sandwiches from a vending machine had saved her day. She grabbed her mug, the very empty one. It was when the world stopped completely. She hadn't time to think or move as she heard _his_ steps in the hallway. The steps she always recognized. Stella's feet felt weak beneath her and she sat down. Her chest tightened and her heart raced. She placed her mug on her desk and hid her trembling hands in her lap. Mac appeared in sight, standing in the door frame, a file in his hand. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who worked late. It was his job what counted the most. It kept him alive and his thoughts away from Stella.

She tried to remember how to breathe.

"Hey." Mac's voice was raw as he entered inside the room. He sounded as his voice was bleeding. His heart sure was. He looked grim. It was an undesirable way he kept staring at the woman. Maybe it was the dim lightning of the room which made his stare so… so intense, Stella hoped as their gazes met. Maybe it was her lack of sleep and caffeine which made her tricks. No, no. She knew. She _knew_. He had changed. He looked so different, solid and rugged. There was a five o'clock shadow on his face. His movements were almost austere. His irises were in fire. His stare was scalding. It challenged her. The intensity caused her to shiver.

"Hey." She responded with a tentative smile.

"I hope I didn't scare you." He looked through the window, somewhere in the dark.

"No, you didn't scare me." It was all she could say though there was so much more she wanted to tell him. He was her best friend. He was her everything. She opened her mouth, but the words died on her lips. He captured her gaze and the torrid look in his blue eyes pierced her. It burnt her. She sensed on her skin. Nothing could slake it.

It was Mac's voice which gave Stella enough strength to breathe.

"It's Danny's birthday. There's a party at a bar. Lindsay asked me to ask you. So…"

He didn't finish his question. He didn't need to. He knew Stella would understand what he asked. Oh yes, they communicated on so many levels.

"I think I pass. I'm quite tired, actually." She was honest though his unspoken question surprised her. She couldn't spend her night with her friends, pretending to be fine, because she wasn't fine. She couldn't pretend to be fine with him. They needed to talk. But that night, all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and close her eyes. She wanted to drift on the waves of her dreams.

"You should rest." He smiled but the smile didn't reach in his eyes. He got it. She had plans already. Why wouldn't she have?

_It isn't like we are dating, Mac._

"Maybe later then." He tried to hide the bitterness in his voice.

"Yeah... I just finish these…" There was an open file in front on her on her desk. "Say hello for me."

The look on Mac's face changed: "I'm not going. I thought we would have gone together, but I'm not going…"

She barely heard him.

"…without you."

_Oh. _

_Oh!_

Stella's heart skipped a beat for what she realized.

Mac turned to walk out of the room, but he stilled as he heard Stella's voice.

"I guess these can wait."

Mac nodded, letting her know he had heard her, and then he disappeared in the shadows of the hallway.

---

They had stopped at Stella's apartment for she had wanted to change her clothes. She had dressed in her dark blue jeans, a deep purple, filmy sweater with a beaded neckline, black high heels. She had slipped on her fitted leather jacket and stuck her badge on her hip. The piece of metal was her protection, her identity. Mac had already changed his clothes in the locker room of the crime lab. Be ready in fifteen, he had told her as he had waited outside of her apartment building. He had parked his black SUV on the driveway. She had been ready in twelve. He had chuckled. For once she had obeyed him. They had taken a cap to the downtown.

Stella couldn't believe it. Mac was beside her as they entered the bar. The bar Danny has chosen was a cop bar, O'Connell's or something. It wasn't the right place for her, but hey, she wasn't the one who had a birthday. The air inside the bar was hot and stifling and she wanted to run outside. She couldn't. Not when Mac held his hand on her lower back. She didn't want to break the contact. It made Stella feel so weak, and why she felt that way was something new. It was something unexpected. She wasn't afraid of him. She would never be though there was something she couldn't figure out. She wanted to know. She wanted to feel and she was about to feel. Oh yes, when he was so close. They moved past few colleagues. It was loud inside the bar. The music distracted her thoughts as she viewed the room. There were too many wasted men and women who tried to get to the bar. She wasn't going to be one of them.

Mac guided Stella through the crowd, still holding his hand on her lower back. It was what he did the best, guiding her through the barriers. He noticed how few men stared at Stella. He let his action spoke. Her words and the sudden flash of jealously made him tighten his hold on her. He remembered everything. Damn it, he sensed it all.

_I wanted him to be you._

Stella felt uneasy, but she smiled at his firm touch. She had missed it. She had missed Mac. The pressure of his hand warmed the spot on her back. The warm sense spread all over her body, and she was sure he noticed it. Of course he did. He noticed everything. She blushed slightly.

Mac leaned into her. The sudden whiff of Stella's perfume lingered around them as she moved beside him. She was so close. The man's momentary touch deepened as his fingers brushed the hem of Stella's sweater, gracing the soft skin just above the waistband of her jeans. His arm snaked around her waist. His fingers traced the badge on her hip and she couldn't breathe. She just couldn't. Damn him being so…so possessive. The woman turned her head slightly but he was damn close. She lowered her gaze, wasn't able to meet his. She sensed it though. It sent an unbearable shiver all over her body. The prickle of his stubble grazed her cheek as he whispered in her ear: "You okay?"

Stella would always be okay with Mac. She would. The woman inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. She was so in love with him her heart was already broken. There weren't any others. Not for her, not for him. She needed to tell him. He needed to know. He needed to hear her words. She would tell him soon. Seconds later she captured his gaze, her green eyes mesmerizing.

"Never feeling better."

The proximity never unwanted.

Soon.

---

Mac and Stella were stuck behind the singing group on drunken cops. It was Danny who observed them. He was the one who spoke first: "I bet they are doing it."

Lindsay, Hawkes, Adam, Don and Sid turned their heads. Danny kept smirking at their superiors. He took another sip of his beer. The grin on his face widened. He had seen enough.

"Definitely, they are doing it."

"Danny!" Lindsay cried and rolled her eyes. "Mac and Stella? No way!"

"What? Look at them." Danny blurted. Once again they all turned to look at Mac and Stella. Mac whispered something in Stella's ear. She laughed, her green eyes sparkling.

"They are just friends, Danny." Hawkes spoke.

Danny glanced at Don. Before the drunken man had time to ask his opinion Don said the truth: "They are _not_ doing it."

Lindsay laughed at the expression on Danny's face. So did the others, too.

"Laugh so much you want, but I'm right. You'll see."

---

"Happy birthday, Danny." Stella hugged Danny as she and Mac had finally made their way to the booth where their colleagues sat.

"Hey guys." Stella took of her jacket and set it on a rack. They all greeted, smiling. It was truly nice to see Stella spending time with her friends. Danny vanished to play pool with Hawkes after Mac had congratulated the younger man. Mac sat across Stella and viewed the room. He scanned the faces of the large group of men. His gaze stopped. Mac's eyes narrowed and it took a moment to recognize the man in the middle of the other cops.

_She's good but I bet you know that already. _

Mac had never felt so betrayed. He looked at Stella who gave a warm smile at him. He kept his face blank. He knew why she had agreed to come in the bar. It wasn't because she wanted to celebrate Danny's birthday. It wasn't because she wanted to spend time with them, with him. Of course there would be someone else in her life and if that jerk would be enough for her... Oh well, Mac was tired been a part of her twisted game. He was done.

_I need you to go._

He would be gone.

"What do you want to drink?" Don asked Stella. She wasn't in the mood of drinking.

"Uh… A glass of soda." She answered.

"Really? No shots?" Mac questioned a hard look on his face. There was a hint of mock in his voice. It started her. Something had changed. Stella looked at Mac and tried to read his expression. He gave nothing away.

"No, I don't feel like drinking." She said quietly.

"I'll be right back." Don said.

"It's really nice that you came, Stella." Lindsay sipped her beer and gave a supportive smile. For a brief moment Stella felt fine. When she secretly glanced at Mac, who had a stoic look on his face, her smile faded. Their gazes met.

"You should have drinks. I know how they _relax _you." Mac sneered.

"What?" She asked, studying Mac's expression. She couldn't figure it out why he was so rough all of sudden though she deserved that. She had hurt him. Mac stood up not saying a word. The shades of ice in his eyes froze Stella. His eyes narrowed. He breathed through his nose when he looked at her.

_She's good, but I bet you know that already._

Mac's actions were rude and hard. He was done. Stella couldn't figure out what was wrong with him and she was too afraid to ask. She dreaded talking to him. She couldn't bear the thought of life without of her best friend. She watched intently as Mac made his way to the bar. Stella tried to force a smile, failing badly. The others had seen it all, but she couldn't explain his behavior. She steeled herself not to cry. The need of sleep made her feel exhausted and it kicked her on the high way of awareness. Her equilibrium was out of balance and she danced again on the verge of falling apart. She sensed it and closed her eyes. She longed for a shot of Jack Daniels to smooth the edges of her heartache. Yes, her heart was broken already. It was a desperate need to fall into numbness, and she would fall. It ached too much to think there would be no one to catch her.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading this. Please review!:) I'm sick:( I need something to cheer me up. Mac was different, wasn't he?;D


	7. Tide part 2

A/N: Okay, here it is. Finally. This chapter is rated M just in case. Thank you for reviews and alerts! I own nothing, but mistakes are mine. A language warning. Thank you _Lily Moonlight_ for reading, conversation and your suggestions!

Chapter 6.

Part 2.

_Belle who: Tide_

_You can feel it in the air. You can feel it in the air. You feel it in the air. The water is coming, we must stop running._

-----

"Hi, this is Stella Bonasera. I'm sorry I cannot answer your call right now. Please, leave a message after the tone."

He dialed again.

"Hi, this is Stella Bonasera…"

And again.

-----

Stella didn't feel anything, yet she felt everything. She concentrated to breathe in and out, in and out. No, the pain was still there, in her heart. She tried to think of any ways to have things back as normal as they had been, but she couldn't. She needed to talk with Mac. Something about his behavior bothered her. It had bothered her since they had met at work earlier. She had no clue why he had become so impolite all of sudden, and the thought of him not wanting to spend time with her made her heart bleed. She would talk with him soon. She hoped to have enough courage to meet him. She felt so pathetic. If the evening wasn't a mistake, maybe it was her life that was the biggest mistake of all.

"It looks like you need something stronger than just a soda." Don sat down across from Stella and slid the drink into her hands. Stella snapped back to reality. She attempted a smile, but it didn't reach into the corners of her lips.

"It's fine." She lied and sipped her soda. "Thanks."

Stella glanced over at Mac, who spent his time at the bar. He looked grim. Why he even bothered to spend his time in the bar while he clearly didn't enjoy his time, Stella wondered. She observed the other people in the bar. She studied their nonverbal communication. Adam talked with some girl, blushing. Stella smirked when their gazes briefly met. Stella had seen her in the lab. She was a newbie. Kendall. She let her gaze wander a while and turned to look at Don, grinning.

"What?" He asked, seeing the wide grin on Stella's face. He could tell the woman had something in her mind by the way her eyes sparkled.

"You know. There is that brunette...." Stella winked as she had noticed the brown, long haired woman with fashionable clothes. She had kept her eyes on Don, and was clearly annoyed by some guy who tried to talk with her. She had another man in her mind, Stella was sure.

"Really?" Don turned to study her expression. He didn't believe Stella.

Stella tilted her head a bit. "Go talk with her."

"Me? No!" Don protested a slight blush rising on his cheeks. "I don't even know who she is."

"Have you noticed her?" Stella questioned.

Don blushed even more and stammered: "I- In a way."

Stella laughed: "Go talk with her. Now."

---

Stella's chest rose and fell deeply. She continued to inhale, to exhale. There wasn't enough air in the room. She stepped through the crowd, forcing people to move out of her way. She needed to talk with him. Soon was now. She needed to know he was fine. So she could be, too. Mac was in the back part of the bar, near the emergency exit, sitting on a bar chair. He hadn't touched his drink. The amber liquid was still untouched in the glass.

He wanted so badly it to be his oblivion. It never was.

"Hey." Stella touched Mac's shoulder, sliding her hand down along his arm. She felt how his muscles tensed at her touch. She didn't move her hand. He turned his head, dragging his gaze over her body.

"What do you want?"

"No- Nothing. I just--" She breathed deeply, forcing to look into his eyes.

"I knew you wouldn't leave me alone. Here, enjoy this." He slid the drink towards Stella.

"Stop it." She begged.

Mac's laugh was cold: "Oh come on, Stella. I know you want it."

"What is wrong with you, Mac? Why are so--?" She asked silently.

Mac stood up and cut the slight distance between them. He stopped when he was in front of her, his heat far too close to her. The other people pushed their way to the bar, staring at them and Stella steadied herself by gripping his arm.

"I'm fine." Mac grinned, leaning closer and a hint of anger danced in his eyes. His stare was scalding. "What do you want?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat. It was no use talking with him. She would tell him later, and the contact was broken.

"Forget it." Stella shook her head and turned to walk away, but Mac was quicker than her. He tugged her upper arm, spinning her around. Before she noticed, she stumbled after him into the darkness of the emergency exit. The door slammed closed behind them, and he ignored the audible breath that she took as he pressed her against a wall of the staircase which leaded outside. The red, four letters of the self-illuminated exit sign glowed in the room, and they barely saw each other.

The darkness was too consuming.

It wasn't something new.

They faced it before.

---

Time passed.

Stella didn't flinch because she wasn't afraid of Mac. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and every second of sensing his hands on her skin burned her soul. She forced her breathing to be calm, closing her eyes. His breath was on her skin, and she warmed from that. God, she felt so pathetic.

"I asked you a question, Stella." Mac's voice was so low, and the hint of gentleness made her shiver. One simple question required one plain answer. She remained silent. He wanted her to stop this. He wanted her to let go of him. The low beat of the music floated through the wall with the same rhythm of their heart beats. Stella heard him, but her voice locked. She opened her darkened eyes. Mac loosened his hold, not wanting to hurt her, and moved his hands to rest on her waist. The need to touch her didn't stop. Damn. It never did. Every inch of his skin longed for her. It was too painful to think that there was someone else for her.

_She's good, but I bet you know that already._

But she was with him now, and it only mattered.

"I heard you." Stella moved her hand to caress his face, feeling his stubble against her palm. Her touch made Mac groan. For a moment his eyes drifted closed, and the room spun in his head. He was drunk, but not by alcohol. No, no. It wasn't his oblivion. She was. He was drunk by her touch, her smile and the sense of her skin. She traced his lower lip with her thumb so painfully slow he wanted the sense to last eons. He leaned closer, his forehead almost colliding with hers. Her lips parted. He was so close. Too close.

He wanted to prolong the inevitable. He couldn't. His mouth skimmed against her. She wasn't sure if it really happened as the man pressed his lips to hers. It was so unreal, and yet it was so real, so right. She made no sound, except the tiny whimper that escaped as he drove his tongue in her mouth. Mac moved his left hand to cradle Stella's head and his fingers tangled in her hair. His right hand traced the waistband of her jeans, and her badge on her hip. She pulled her badge off, and let it fall as she felt his fingers across the soft skin of her abdomen. He waited for her protest, but she only jerked towards his touch. Mac made Stella whimper again as he touched her, letting his hand roam up her waist and over her breasts. He wanted her sweater off, her skin against his. He wanted to have what was his and she was. Of course she had been his for a long time. From the very first time she had called him. She had wanted to be his, when he couldn't be hers. And now, when he pressed himself against her body with the intensity she felt like drowning in the tide of his affection, dear God she was his. She trembled and didn't have enough strength to resist Mac. She didn't even want to. The heat rushed through them both. Every second he had with her, made him kiss her harder, deeper and there was nowhere to go. No other places to be.

"Don't stop." Stella whimpered against Mac's mouth and wrapped her arms around him. He tasted so good, he felt even better. He obeyed her. It was dark, in the place he didn't have to share her. She was his. He needed her. He wanted her. He loved her. Memories wouldn't be good enough, not after when he tasted her. Her mouth was gentle and eager. Not after when he touched her. Her skin was soft and warm. He would always long for her. She was with him, and it only mattered. Even if it was this stolen moment with her, he would take it. He didn't need anything else.

"Say it."

"I can't."

She wanted him. She needed him. She loved him. If it was this moment with him, she would take it. She would let him take it. He was hard against her, and he trailed small kisses along her jaw. His stubble felt rough against her cheek.

"Say you don't want me." He croaked arousal evident in his voice.

_Let this be over._

"I can't." Her voice was filled with emotions.

_Never._

They were isolated, surrounded by their rapid breathings. She sank into his arms and her head rested against his shoulder. He pressed his face against her hair and inhaled deeply. He ran his hands on her back, his fingers following the line of her spine.

"Say it." Mac moved his other hand to grab her chin, tilting her head up to face him. He needed to hear her. He needed to know everything was the same as it was before. But nothing was. "Say you don't want me. Please, Stella, just say it. Let this be over."

There was so much for her to see, and she saw it all. The pain he tried to hide, the love he couldn't hide. It was all there, in his blue eyes. The shades of ice melted long ago. It ached to breathe. As he exhaled, she inhaled, in turns. Seconds, almost minutes. He graced the side of her face and his touch was a whisper on her skin.

"I can't." Her lower lip trembled and her eyes welled with tears.

He was solid and unmovable against her. Stella didn't know how long they stared at each other in the poorly illuminated staircase. Time hadn't been relevant in her life. It only mattered to her that he was beside her. Her heart was swollen in her chest. She didn't want to let him go. He was all she ever wanted.

Stella took a deep, shaky breath: "I can't because I…"

The words died on her lips as Mac took steps backwards and opened the door. She wanted, so badly, to stop him, but she couldn't avoid the inevitable. No, no. She couldn't. Mac mumbled something unintelligible before he stepped inside the bar. As the door slammed closed, Stella suffocated her sob. Even if she had wanted to, she hadn't enough strength to call after him.

…_love you._

---

"Are you okay?" It was Don's worried voice.

Stella's body betrayed her badly, lacking Mac's warmth and touch. Stella turned to face Don, her green eyes tearful. A dark turmoil replaced the sparks in her eyes.

"No." She whispered and grabbed her jacket. "I'm not okay."

"What happened?" He asked. He was confused. Stella had disappeared somewhere and now she stood so shaken in front of him. "You talked with Mac?"

"Hmm…" She slipped on her jacket and shoved her hands into the pockets. "I need to go."

Clearly, she wasn't in the mood for talking. Don hated himself for asking: "Did he hurt you?"

A heavy blush rose on her cheeks and she met Don's gaze. "No." She managed to whisper. "No…"

"I'm sorry for asking. You just look so…" Don mumbled.

"Look, I really don't want to talk about it. Nothing happened." She couldn't stop shivering.

"So 'nothing happened' again?" He couldn't hide the smirk, but was given her cold stare which made his grin fade. He continued: "Call me when you're home." He gave a friendly kiss on her forehead.

She was touched by Don's concern, and she steeled herself not to cry and tapped on his shoulder: "You are such a good but totally over-protective friend."

"Hey, that's what we do. We take care of each other." Don smirked.

"Yes, that's what we do."

Then Stella remembered and peeked over her shoulder: "Oh, what's her name?"

The young detective blushed: "Angell."

---

She pushed her way toward the main door, sensing elbows on her back. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be in her bed, beneath the comforter so maybe she would stop shivering. She wanted to sleep till the morning hours. The only thing that was permanent in her life. But somehow she guessed it. She couldn't be able to sleep. Not when she missed Mac painfully.

She sensed a firm grip on her arm.

"Hey, what---"She was about to say but was interrupted.

"Are you all alone?"

She turned slowly to face the man. She remembered.

_That was amazing._

And regretted.

"Where's your boyfriend? Where's _Mac_?" The way his name was said startled her.

"Oh, hey…" Stella managed to say as the smirking man stared at her. Damn, what was his name?

He seemed to read her mind.

"I'm Dean. Remember me? Last time we met I didn't have time to introduce myself." He grinned. "It's great to see you again. You look so fucking sexy." His smile was bold. It made her shiver and she was so shaken already. The bar was crowded and someone pushed Stella toward the man. He took an advance immediately. He held his other hand dangerously low on her back. She inhaled sharply, trying to step away from him. "Just wait a second, okay."

"What's the matter? You got shy all of sudden?" The man teased.

"It's not that---"

"Let me buy you a drink, okay." That wasn't a question.

"I can buy my own drinks." There was a certain determination in her voice.

"I bet you do." He murmured.

"Well, in that case---"

He needed to get her out of the bar.

"In that case, my place is closer." He leaned closer and his eyes danced on her body. "Come on. I know what you want." His whispered words hit Stella's explored neckline. Stella was drawn into another world. She remembered Mac's touch on her skin. She remembered his kisses, and the phantom memory of his lips lingered on her lips. No one could replace his touch. She jerked away from the man's grip.

"Get the hell away from me." Stella raised her voice. "Don't touch me again." And she was gone. The brooding air of the fallen night surrounded her as she stepped outside. Off in the distance she heard the thunderstorm; the same rumble was in her heart. The whiff of air whispered a silent good night. The first drops of downpour fell.

The man was a shadow, following her.

---

Mac stepped out of the men's room. The cold water he had run on his face hadn't helped to ease the sense of Stella's lips. He stood silently for a moment and let out a deep sigh. He needed to get a grip. He still heard her whimpered words.

_Don't stop._

But there was something else what made him shiver, and he knew what Stella would have said to him if he had stayed.

_I can't because I… _

…_love you. _

He had been so wrong. Stella hadn't come into the bar because of the man she had slept with. Of course she hadn't. He knew it now, and he realized what she felt. It had been seen the way she had touched and kissed him. It had been the way she had let him touch her. He would never forget how she had trembled beneath his touch. As he thought about it, panic ran through his veins. His heart jumped into his throat and his chest constricted with trepidation. What the hell had he done? He walked through the crowd quickly as possible as it was, but the people seemed to be on his way. He rushed into the emergency exit.

"Stella?"

He faced the empty staircase. He was too late for she was gone. Being in agony Mac prayed silently for Stella's forgiveness. He shouldn't have left her there, in the damned staircase. He lowered his gaze and the piece of metal, Stella's badge, captured his attention. It was a part of her identity. Without it, she felt stripped and vulnerable. And she had dropped it because of him. It mortified him. He picked up her badge, and held it in his hand before he shoved it in his pocket. He stood there, breathing in and out. He took up his cell phone. He hit her number and waited for her to pick up. He wanted to say how sorry he was. Even more he wanted to tell her how much he loved her.

_Let this be over._

_I can't. _

"Come on, Stella. Pick up your phone…" Mac mumbled.

It rang seven times and went to voicemail. He listened to her voice, a twist in his heart.

-----

"Hi, this is Stella Bonasera. I'm sorry I cannot answer your call right now. Please, leave a message after the tone."

He dialed again.

"Hi, this is Stella Bonasera…"

And again.

-----

TBC

* * *

Thanks for reading this! Please, review!


	8. Permanent

A/N: Thanks for reviews and alerts, they really made me happy!:) This chapter wrote itself. I don't own anything, except the bartender and Al (and mistakes). A language warning. Enough said, enjoy!

Thanks _Lily Moonlight_ for reading, conversation and suggestions:)

Chapter 7.

_David Cook: Permanent_

_Will you think that you`re all alone when no one`s there to hold your hand?_

Mac ran out of the bar. The rain hit the city, silencing the life around him almost completely. He tried to find Stella, but she wasn't there. She was gone. He blinked as the rain hit his face, but he didn't care about his pain. He had his phone in his hand. He hit her number and cursed as he heard her voicemail again. He scanned the street, people running and hurrying into shelters, but he stood there, under the downpour.

"Mac, I thought you left earlier." Mac heard Don's shout. The younger man appeared into his sight.

"No, I was…" Mac looked around, hoping to see Stella somewhere.

"Have you missed something?" Don couldn't hide the chuckle in his voice.

"What?" Mac asked impatiently and turned to face the man.

"She left awhile ago." Don didn't need to hear who he was looking for.

"Where?" Mac rasped, squeezing the phone in his hand. Don wiped away raindrops over his face and sighed.

"Home, she went home."

"She's not answering my calls." Mac mumbled, falling into his own thoughts.

"She promised to call me when she got home." Don confessed. "I'm still waiting for her call or text message." He looked at his watch. It was almost forty minutes since the woman had stepped out of the bar. It would take almost twenty minutes for her to be home, if she took a cab. If not, well, maybe she would call him tomorrow. But Don knew that wasn't Stella's habit. She didn't want them to worry about her. It would be a lot easier to give the damn call. So why, in fact, hadn't she called him?

"Maybe you should call her?" Mac suggested.

"She promised—"

"Just call her!" Mac raised his voice. "Call her right now."

"Whooa!" Don shouted and stepped backwards. He took up his cell phone and pressed number two for it was the speed dial for Stella's number. He waited to hear her voice, but the message of her voicemail was all he heard. He tried again. And again.

"She's not answering." Don furrowed. "Huh."

Mac scrubbed his hands over his face.

"I'm sure she's fine, Mac." Don tried to find any explanations for why Stella didn't answer their calls as he saw the agony on Mac's face. "Hell, I'll bet she's taking a relaxing, hot bath right now. I mean, this night really was something, huh?"

_Are you kidding with me? _Mac looked at the detective and couldn't believe he had this conversation with him. He acted almost like Danny. He acted as if he knew something.

The stoic expression on Mac's face reminded Don not to joke about Stella. He was really worried about her.

"No, she's not taking any baths." Mac's voice was a whisper and he struggled for a calm breath, his mind captured by her voice. He needed to find her to say how sorry and wrong he had been. There was something that gnawed at his mind.

Mac turned to face Don. "Listen, I need you to do me a favor…"

---

The young woman, who had long, blonde hair stood out of the cab after she paid for a ride. She was left on a street in the middle of the night. She hated the weather and cursed slightly as she felt the raindrops soaking through her clothes. She grabbed her bags on her shoulder. She looked around if that was the right address, if that was the right place to be. After so many years, she wasn't sure if the bar was still there. But it was, and he would be, too. The flight across the country to New York had been long and she wanted to sleep, but first she needed to meet a person. She had missed him, but after their shared downfall, the man had shattered in so many pieces even she couldn't help him.

The young woman took a deep breath and opened the door. She stepped inside the bar of her father. It was dim, and it took a moment to get her eyes adjusted to the lightning. She dropped her bags on the floor and looked for him. Tears filled her eyes. The bartender sat behind the bar and glanced at the visitor. He let his gaze land, but his head snapped back to look at the visitor. He couldn't believe who he saw. He stood up slowly and walked toward the young woman, his daughter.

"Hi dad." She whispered as she wasn't able to form anything else. His eyes filled with tears as he pulled his daughter into a hug.

"Pumpkin." He cried. "Your hair is so much longer. You look so beautiful." _Just like your mother. _

She rolled her eyes.

"Dad, don't call me that."

He laughed, really. "All right, Al."

"That's better." The young woman tapped on his shoulder and smiled. He grabbed the bags and carried them further into the bar, vanishing into the back room. Al followed him and sat on a bar chair, waiting.

The man appeared a glass of milk and cookie-filled plate in his hands as he asked: "What brings you here?"

Al studied his feature, a sad smile on her face. He was older and exhaled sadness. Her father wasn't the same man he used to be. He placed his daughter's favorite mid night snack on the bar.

"Dad!" Al cried, still secretly pleased he remembered how much she liked milk and cookies. "I'm not twelve anymore."

"But you are my baby girl. I don't have anything else. You should have called... I could have ordered in your favorite food… " His voice carried away as he looked at the one person he loved more than his life.

"Thanks." The young woman took a long sip of her drink and was touched by her father's words. She ate all the cookies, promising to herself to work out the extra calories. "That was really good."

"You didn't answer my question." The man looked at her daughter, knowing her so well.

"Do I need a reason to be here?" She shrugged.

"It's been so long since…" He didn't want to recall the day.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around." She spun around on the chair, mumbling. She swallowed hard. She tried to hold tears from not falling. She didn't want to recall the day, either. "You still run this business, huh?"

The bartender viewed the place. It was his life now, he reminded himself.

"Yeah."

"You still missed her?"

"Yeah."

Al turned to face his father, tears falling down on her cheeks. She said, her voice trembling: "I want to see her grave."

There was shock on his face. As the tears began to fall the man promised: "One day. One day."

She nodded for she knew he would keep his promises. Al wiped away tears and gave a weak smile: "I have missed you, dad."

The man made his way to his daughter and pulled her into a hug, again: "Me, too. And I'm so glad you are here."

---

He knew where she lived. As the woman was nowhere to be found, the steps he took were hidden by the rain.

---

Stella didn't know how the hell she ended up sitting on a bench. She had walked, and walked, passing buildings, crossing streets. Her destination was unknown. She was soaked, cold and wrapped her arms around her, trying to hold the warm but she couldn't stop shivering. She didn't want to care, didn't want to feel. There was so much crashing inside her. The woman thought about Mac and for a moment it felt like she felt his lips on hers, but it was only the raindrops that kissed her lips. A phantom memory. She bit her lower lip so hard she tasted blood. She was desperate for anything to replace the memory of his kisses. She heard the chirp of her cell phone piercing the air. With a heavy sigh she took her cell phone up and flipped it open. She read the text message: "_Please, answer your phone. We need to talk. Mac."_

_Mac_.

Her best friend. The man she loved. So badly. It hurt so much. She couldn't tell which hit the small screen of her phone, her tears or raindrops, as she read his message again.

"Oh God." She sobbed and tucked her cell phone back into her pocket. The man had tried to call so many times she wondered if the battery of her phone would last his assaults. She heard again the endless sound of her phone and she didn't even bother to look who the caller was. She was so tired. Her hair was tangled by the sudden wind and the raindrops she felt on her skin, on her face felt like needles. But she didn't care as she was desperate for anything to replace his touch. In her heart Stella knew it was impossible. All what was left was the remains of her love. The woman stood up, and began to walk further. She slicked her hair out of her face and let out a deep breath. All of sudden there was a touch on her shoulder. It wasn't firm hold, but she still jerked away. Then she relaxed, seeing the man.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." Don apologized, blinking for the rain hit against his face. Stella looked at her friend.

"How did you know---?" Stella began to ask, puzzled. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was. She didn't get lost in the city, but at the night time everything was different. Hell, it all was different now.

"You know, as a detective you don't pay so much attention to GPS. It's in your phone, Stella." Don gave her a look. "You promised to call me."

The woman couldn't decide whether to be angry or not. "You used GPS to find me?" She asked astonished and slightly irritated. Don stood beside Stella and wrapped his arm around Stella's shoulder as the woman shivered and looked upset. She still processed that thought.

"You should answer your phone." Don stated simply and cleared his throat. "You didn't call me and when Mac---"

_Damn Mac and his plans._

He didn't need to finish his sentence, and Stella guessed who had asked him to use GPS.

"Mac asked you to use GPS?"

He nodded and continued: "As 'nothing happened' between you, he is upset."

Stella was silent for awhile, trying to keep herself not falling apart. She lowered her head and whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "I love him." Her voice shattered by the sound of the thunder.

Don pulled Stella closer and tightened his hold. He should have guessed it as 'nothing happened' between Mac and Stella, hell, everything happened.

"Come on, Stella. Let's go home." He waited for her.

"I think I'll walk." The woman protested and pulled away from her friend's comfort.

Don crossed his hand over his chest. "No."

"No?"

"It is in the middle of the night. I won't leave you here alone. Say what you want, but no."

She laughed, in disbelief. "I can take care of myself."

"I know, but---"

Then it hit her.

"Mac." Stella tried to say his name with a normal tone, but there would always be something more the way his name escaped from her lips. Now his name bled with her heart. Don wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I promised him to take care of you and I don't want him to kick my ass."

---

Stella heard it, the sound of her cell phone, but she didn't want to hear his voice. She felt it, the vibration of her phone but she let it ring. It caused her heart to race faster. She didn't want to fall apart. Not when she sat on the backseat of a yellow cab. Not when the cabbie looked at her with a question in his eyes.

The woman's phone started to ring again, but the cabbie swallowed his curiosity to ask who the caller was. He remained silent for the sorrowful look on the woman's face told him enough. The way she struggled to keep herself of not falling apart with those deep and trembling sighs the cabbie was almost sure she had a heartache. He hoped it wouldn't be permanent. She rested her head against the cool surface of the window and saw how raindrops raced against the window. Her hot tears fell faster and she didn't bother to wipe them away.

"Stop here." Stella said her voice raspy at the cabbie as they were on the street she lived. She paid for the drive, muttering: "Keep the chains."

Stella stood up from the cab and was soaked again completely as she ran closer to her apartment building. Mac's car was still at the driveway but she didn't look at it closer. It rained so hard, and she couldn't keep her eyes open properly. The sky was dark, almost black and the thunder rumbled with its power. It scared her. She had never liked the sound of the thunder. The power of nature held something unknown, untainted. She startled by the sound of her cell phone piercing the air.

"Goddamned." She sobbed. She was so tired. The rainy wind hit her so hard, and it blew her hair on her face. The sky cracked with a loud rumble and it seemed to drown all other sounds.

Steps. Approaching. Following.

Stella turned around and faced an empty street. She sighed, not really knowing what she would have done if she faced him. She opened the main door and stepped forward, crossing the doorframe. She was welcomed by the warm and dry air of the hallway. The sudden change of the temperature caused her to shiver even more. She once more peeked over her shoulder. The rain hit the pavement harder as she stepped inside the building.

---

When Stella disappeared into her apartment building, Mac stood out of the car where he had been a while waiting for her. He felt relieved that she was home now. He slammed the door closed and locked it. He knew how to get into her apartment, because somehow he guessed she didn't want to see him. But he needed, badly, to say how sorry he was. As Mac was about to cross the street, his blood ran cold. The man who Mac had seen in the bar appeared from the shadows.

_She's good, but I bet you know that already._

Mac went back to his car and opened the door. He found his other gun and the holster under the front seat. He tugged the holster on his hip and he ran, following the man. So many bad things hit the pit of his stomach. He squeezed the piece of metal in his hand so hard his knuckles turned white, his chest heavy as the sky and the rain silenced his steps.

So many bad things…

TBC

* * *

Thanks for reading this. Any kind of comments would be nice to have. I feel sad for there is only one more chapter to go and this story is completed! And OMG how the season 5 ended:( What comes to the GPS system, I really don't know how that works so please forgive my lack knowledge about it and let's pretend I got it right:D


	9. Dawn

A/N: I have no idea where the idea of writing so dark and angst story came from, but it is time to say goodbye to this story. Yes, this is the end and I feel really sad for I have enjoyed writing this:D This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones, but I hope you stick with it. Rating M. A language warning.

Lily Moonlight. You have no idea what it means to me that you have spent your time reading and commenting this story. So thank you!

And to those who reviewed and put me on alerts… I can't thank you enough for the lovely reviews and alerts. Really. The last ones cheered me up! So thank you!!

I own nothing, except mistakes. The song is one of my favorite. Not mine either. Enough said, enjoy:)

Chapter 8.

_Poets of the fall: Dawn_

_Don't mourn what is gone, greet the dawn. N' I will be standing by your side, together we'll face the turning tide._

Stella opened the door of her apartment. Water drops fell on the floor as she stood inside her apartment. She didn't turn on the lights for the emptiness of her apartment was too much. She walked past furniture, continuing her way to the bathroom. On her way she tossed her jacket on the kitchen counter. She felt relieved as the ringing of her phone had stopped. The silence was pressuring, but on the other her attention was captured by the heavy rain as the raindrops hit against the windows. She reached the door and turned the light on in the bathroom. She squeezed her eyes shut as her eyes didn't want to adjust to the brightness. She walked in and leaned against a wall and buried her face in her hands, sliding down the cold tile surface of the wall.

She cried. It was easy to let out the unforgiving pain what she had held inside from the moment she realized she was alone in a staircase. She had cried earlier that night, but this time, it was heart wrenching. She had been alone her entire life, and after this night she was sure it wouldn't change. She couldn't figure out why he had left her, and the memory of him slipping away from her embrace made her struggle for a breath. Images, memories and touches passed her, tearing her heart until it bled. Tears drained on her face. The woman moved her head to rest it against the wall she leaned on as she sat on the floor, staring in front of her, not really seeing a thing.

The clothes were glued onto Stella's skin and she hadn't realized how cold she was. She shivered. In a way she hated the sensation but she was glad she was able to feel something. She kicked off her shoes. She shivered more as she exposed her body, taking off her sweater and jeans in the bathroom. She tossed them on the floor. She would set them to dry as soon as she had slept a few hours. She dressed in her dressing gown, and the silken touch of the fabric soothed her skin. She tied her hair up and washed her face, removing her makeup. She leaned against the sink, breathing deeply, in and out.

---

So many bad thing floated in Mac's mind as the man reached the door of Stella's apartment. He pulled out something from his pocket and tried to force the door open. Mac raised his gun to aim at the man who wasn't aware of his presence. Slowly he took steps closer, ready to shoot that son of a bitch. Mac heard him swearing for the door didn't seem to open so easily. Mac's aim held as he pressed the barrel of the gun against the man's back of the head. He froze. Mac tensed, ready to fight, but he didn't need to as the man begged: "Don't shoot."

"Get the hell out of here, then." How much he wanted to pull the trigger, how much he wanted to protect her.

"You are fucking crazy." Dean muttered with a smug smile when he seemed to recognize Mac. "Is she worth a fight?"

Mac stared at Dean as the tugged his gun in the holster on his hip. He could kill him with his bare hands. He couldn't stop thinking about how the man had touched Stella, how she had allowed him the right to be with her. And now, that son of a bitch tried to break into her apartment. So many bad things crashed inside him and anger won him. He slammed the man against the wall and gritted: "Like I said, get the hell out of here."

Mac was completely unaffected by the other man's verbal assault. But when Mac heard how Dean began to assault her, Stella, he couldn't restrain all the stress, all the hate towards the man. Mac's fist hit against Dean's face, again, and again. Mac's knuckles were covered by blood and he breathed heavily. "You son of a bitch…"

He was no match for Mac. Dean growled in pain and fell on the floor. He muttered something about calling the police, but Mac couldn't help but laugh. He wasn't at war with himself anymore.

"I am the police, and so is she. And I'm going to say this only once. If I ever see you again, you will regret it. I will make a personal mission to haunt you down. You got that, you piece of shit?"

Mac saw him standing up on his feet, leaning against the wall. Blood ran from Dean's nose as he began to stumble away from Mac. His hand rested on the holster. So many bad things could have happened…

As Dean disappeared from Mac's sight, he opened the door with the key Stella had given him after Frankie happened. He prayed an apology as he walked into the darkness of her apartment. He pulled her badge out of his pocket. His knuckles bled, but he didn't care about the pain. He heard the running water, and followed the narrow light that came from the bathroom. He didn't care about his own pain at all.

---

Stella hadn't heard a thing as she had let the water run. She splashed water on her face once more. She lifted her face and reached for a towel to dry her face. She pressed the soft towel against her face and let out a deep sigh. She had no tears to cry anymore. Then she froze as she heard the door open. She let the towel fall on the floor next to her feet as she saw the man's darkened profile from the reflection of the mirror and cried out. She turned around quickly. She stared at the man who leaned against the door frame, his head bowed and hands crossed over his chest. He had blood all over his shirt, his knuckles bleeding. His clothes were soaked and his dark hair was damp. Her eyes widened as he lifted his head to look back at her, his eyes darker than the falling sky. His chest rose and fell heavily. His stare was filled with indescribable pain, filled with so many other emotions which had every right to be there.

The man took two steps closer to her, but stopped as the woman backed away. He stood still as if blocking her way, but not intentionally. She could have walked past him any time. His eyes narrowed at her body language. She felt the sink behind her thighs and her eyes darted from his face to the doorway, trying to find any ways to go past him. But Stella couldn't. She couldn't walk past him. She lowered her gaze in defeat. She wanted to know why he bled, who he had hit, but the most of all she needed to find out his reasons to be there. Her heart was about to burst in her chest as she asked: "What are you doing here?"

Mac didn't respond. He looked at the woman, his eyes scanning her shaken profile. He wanted to tell her what had happened, but at this moment when she was almost frozen in front of him, maybe because of him, he wanted to pull her into his embrace to soothe his damage. So he came closer, and with every step he took, she trembled more. She grasped the edge of the sink to have something to hold on. Otherwise she would fall, and the thought was unbearable. She closed her eyes, sensing the heat of his body as he was close to her. She remembered breathe again as he slid his hand on her neck. She heard him saying her name and as his touch soothed her skin and tensed muscles, his fingers tangled in her damp hair and she gave in under his touch to let him know she was with him. That she heard him. He grabbed her chin with his other hand, tilting her head to see her eyes.

"Look at me."

She slowly opened her eyes. The intensity of his dark eyes told how much was hidden beyond the surface. He seemed to relax at bit as he realized she was there, in safe, close to him. She felt his soft breaths as he leaned to cut the proximity. She shivered by the sense of his soaked clothes against the sheer fabric of her dressing gown. She moved her hands on his chest and her fingers clenched into his shirt. She whispered again her question and he buried his face on the crook of her neck to hide his turmoil, and agony.

His voice was a prelude when he whispered: "I love you, too."

She felt his lips on her skin, tasting, owning and yearning. She felt so pathetic for wanting more, needing more.

"I'm sorry." He continued whispering, begging for forgiveness. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you… I love you. I love you." He was incomplete. And with her, he was so much more. His cheek brushed against hers. She didn't pull away as his hands released the narrow belt of her dressing gown, his hand resting on her waist as his lips skimmed against hers. Of course she didn't, because she had already forgiven him. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and she finally moved the shirt over his shoulders, letting it slide along his arms on the floor, exposing his bare chest. She wondered if there should be hesitation, if it should happen this way, if her need to feel and love him was so raw, so aching.

Both of them knew the answer…

The way his hold tightened on her waist as he pulled her closer, and how his proximity caused shockwaves of heat in her low belly, and how she moaned as the kisses were slow and tender with every nip and tuck.

…That enough wasn't the same as it was before.

"I'm sorry."

"I know." Stella whimpered, and the phantom memories of his touch, his scent and taste of his kisses were real again.

---

The lightening owned the sky for a brief moment, a second long flash on the walls. The rest of clothes were shattered, along with all barriers, on the floor. She waited to hear the sound of the thunder but all she heard was her own and his labored breaths. She turned her head slightly and that allowed him a better access. Before her eyes drifted closed, her gaze wander from the ceiling to the walls of her bedroom until she looked through the window to witness the rain had stopped. She gave a desperate whimper as she felt his breath on her skin and she couldn't stop shivering.

_I love you._

She couldn't pretend that enough was the same as it was before. In her heart she knew, when his hand covered hers, claiming what was his as he pressed her onto the mattress leaning down on her, that after this… after this night nothing would be the same. She swallowed. She didn't need to pretend. She didn't need to pretend…

"I want you." She yearned for his lips and she trailed her lips against his jaw, his stubble pleasing her lips.

Mac panted, trying to form any coherent words out of his mouth. But before Mac realized that he had Stella's permission long before this moment, the woman grabbed his hand, guiding it all the way down between her thighs.

"Please." Stella whispered into the darkness as the touch of Mac's fingers was almost too much. He groaned as he felt how ready she was. He tried to hold back the remains of his control, but when he felt the woman's body and saw her beneath him, her lips parted and the expression of want on her face, he knew he had lost himself in the moment. He was hers, would always be. Her legs spread apart and he placed himself between her legs, resting his weight on his elbows. He began to rock his hips against hers and she felt him throbbing at her entrance. She gasped and placed her hands on his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he slid inside of her. He stopped, waiting for her body to accommodate him. He prayed to have some control as she deserved so much more. He placed his lips on her cheek to soothe her struggle for a breath. His body was hard against hers, in her, and she couldn't hold a cry as he finally slid deeper into her and their hips connected in a way their bodies begged for a release. He needed to see her eyes, too see there wouldn't be any pain, any regret.

_Look at me._

His eyes locked with hers, and God the look on her face shattered him. He knew he couldn't survive without her anymore. Her pupils were dilated, begging for more, needing for more. No regret. No pain. His irises were on fire and he wanted her to give in as he slowly began to move in and out, in and out. Her back arched, and it was too much to handle to feel her curves, and heat. And when she jerked her hips against his, urging him to move faster, wanting to feel him deeper, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. This wasn't going to last long. The movements of her hips were too much. God, she was too much. He sucked her tender skin, owning, and her breath hitched. No, no. Enough wasn't the same as it was before.

Mac groaned, feeling Stella around him, on his skin, hearing her whimpers, and gasps. He pulled her into a kiss, his tongue easily sliding inside of her mouth, and the tiny vibration that left her throat continued through his body. His other hand graced the side of her face as his other hand found her slender waist line. She was torrid as he slid his palm on her skin from her waist all the way up to cup her breast. She would have wanted to give him a warning, but the wave of pleasure rushed through her, poured on her, and all she was able to form was his name. The ache exploded inside of her, the drowning tide of biting heat washed away all her control. She reached for his hand on her breast, whimpering his name, and he covered her hand by pressing it onto the mattress. Their fingers entwined, and lips met again. He couldn't hold back any longer as her body tightened around him. His hips crashed forward, her name locked in his throat, and with one deep thrust he shattered inside of her as his body screamed her name. Blue met green, the depth of souls, shared years of friendship, tenderness, and love. Finally love.

---

The sunlight forced through the window as if nothing had happened. Time flew. Mac covered his eyes with his forearm. His eyes burned. He kept his eyes shut few for the light was so bright. He reached to snuggle closer to Stella. He rolled on his side and faced the empty, other side of the bed as he opened his eyes to see that she wasn't there.

"Stella?"

He listened to the sound of the apartment, but there was only silence. What captured his attention was the delicate smell of fresh poured coffee. He couldn't help but smile. His bloody knuckles ached as he tossed the sheet over his body to the other side of bed, slipping out of it. Mac stepped out of her bedroom, wearing boxer briefs. Stella leaned against the window frame in the living room, her eye-lids half closed, and a small smile on her lips. She looked calm, a placid ocean after a storm, and she was lost in her thoughts. The gleams of the sun danced on her eye lashes as her curly hair fell down on her shoulders. She was so beautiful it took his breath away. He had tasted her, touched her and it wasn't enough. Never would be. She enjoyed her steaming cup of coffee, wearing an over-sized t-shirt, and black pants. Her tanned and long legs made him groan. He walked slowly beside her and without any hesitation he wrapped his arms around her.

"Morning." Stella said quietly as she felt his arms around her waist. She smiled at his touch and sank against him. She absorbed his warmth. He kissed her delicate neck, brushing away her hair. No, no. Enough wasn't the same it was before.

"Morning." He murmured as the same gleams of the sun warmed his face. The woman sipped her coffee. Silence surrounded them.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he wrapped his arms tighter around her as if she would slip from his hold like water through fingers, as if she would be gone away from him in a split of a second. He didn't want let go of her. Never.

"What happened to your knuckles?" Stella asked, noticing the wounds on his hands.

Mac cleared his throat, and the air suddenly felt so thin: "I, uh… I kind of lost my temper."

She let out a laugh: "You lost temper? Who pissed you off?"

"Let's not talk about it." He tried to avoid the conversation.

She was persistent, chuckling. "You don't lose your temper for nothing. Come on, tell me."

Mac rested his jaw on her shoulder, breathing in her scent. "It's really nothing."

"Tell me." Her voice rose a bit and she tensed, letting it all out. "Who did you hit? And what's the matter with you? You do not beat the hell out of people for no reason and I can see that you did a pretty good damage to the other person---"

"Stell, listen…" He took a deep breath, and she held her own.

"Just tell me."

"The man you---"

He hadn't time to finish his sentence as she let out a sob, knowing exactly who Mac meant, as regret took a firm hold on her heart.

He held her close and shut his eyes. He hated doing this to her for he knew her reaction. It scared him. "Listen to me. He tried to break into your apartment when I came here and--"

She began to tremble and her legs almost gave out underneath her: "Oh God." She barely held the coffee mug in her hand.

He knew it brought a hazed memory of Frankie breaking into her apartment. But Stella needed to know, and he needed to reassure himself that she really was in his arms, that this wasn't just his pieces of dreams. Mac tried to comfort her. "Stella, it's okay. You are safe, you always are." _With me._

Mac waited her to calm down and slowly her trembling faded. Memories passed both of them and Mac couldn't help but think how close it had been to lose her again.

"I met him." Her voice was so hollow. There was fear, but this time it was his.

"What?" His eyes snapped open.

"In the bar. I didn't know he was there..." Stella stared out of the window, really not seeing anything through her tears."He said that…" _He knew what I wanted._

"Whatever it is, I'll be at your side." He whispered in her ear, believing her. Loving her. "You know that."

"He said…" She shook the memory of Dean out of her head and wiped away her falling tears. It didn't matter anymore. "Well, he didn't say anything important."

"Is that right?" Mac didn't believe her.

"It doesn't matter anymore."She walked away from his embrace into the kitchen and placed her coffee mug on the counter. Her gaze fell on her badge, which Mac had left on the counter, next to her jacket. The light reflected from its surface. She remembered how she had let it fall, how she had let all her barriers shatter because of Mac. After the night, after everything they had gone through together and separately… "It doesn't matter…"

Mac wanted to know why it didn't matter anymore, but he remained silent. His gaze never left her. He saw how she struggled with herself, breathing in and out, preparing. After long seconds, minutes of silence Stella asked: "Will you stay?"

_This is what you want, isn't? That's why you came here._

Mac's heart crushed for he remembered the last time she asked him to stay over a night, but now she asked for so much more.

"I'm not going anywhere." Mac's voice was strong and deep. Why God, she needed a reassurance. Why she thought he wouldn't want be with her. He gave her the control. "Only if you want that, only if you want me to stay?"

Stella let his words sank into her awareness. She turned around to face the man and walked back to him. She looked into his eyes and her lips curled into a smile. His eyes were so blue, like the sky after a storm, and she knew there weren't any clouds. Rays of the sun warmed them through the window, and the emerald sparkles glimmered in her eyes.

"Mac…"

The answer was seen from her eyes.

The end

* * *

I really hope I made them justice and this chapter wasn't a disappointment. I tried my best. Any kind of comments would be nice to have so please do share your opinion! Anyway, thank you so much for reading and sticking with this story! A sequel on its way...


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